


War makes thieves, and peace hangs them

by brandyllyn



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Characters tagged are POV characters, F/F, F/M, Multi, PWP, Smut, canon? I hardly know her., each chapter has its own warning list, hella male gazey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: When Santi needs people for a mission he knows just who to call. But it quickly becomes apparent they’re short one key role - a thief. Preferably one with nice breasts who makes friends easily.Told from POV of Triple Frontier characters and while it’s an OFC she is never described. Her "name" is a radio handle.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales & Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s), Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Original Female Character(s), Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I’ve been itching to write something hella raunchy and while I love my other fics they’re full of soft people being dorks and falling love.
> 
> This is not that. This is filthy smut basically from the go. The plot (what of it there is) exists solely to allow these people to have sex.
> 
> Also, Fuck Tom. He’s in this fic for like 90 seconds before I summarily get rid of him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santi realizes he's one short on the team.
> 
> Words: 2300
> 
> Rating: R swearing. objectification. drugs (mentioned, not used). gendered slurs. no sex in this chapter.

"It’s a five man job," Santi was saying it for the third time that night but Benny just kept shaking his head at him. Across from Benny, Frankie pushes his ball cap off, tossing his arm over his chair and letting it dangle from two fingers.

"C’mon you guys," Frankie starts to say but is cut off.

"Maybe, but not this five," Will points out.

"You had no right to call in someone else without talking to me," Santi can feel the edge to his voice.

"Am I wrong?"

The question deflates the irritation out of Santi. No, he wasn’t. That was the shitty part. The more they found out about this job the more he realized they were going to need someone with a different skillset than the five of them. "Fine, who is he? How do you know him?"

"We ran into each other in South Africa. Ended up on the same job, different sides," Benny taps a finger against his beer bottle. "A few other, less than legal, follow-ups. They’re the best I know of Santi."

"Yeah," Santi picks his bottle up, draining the last of it. "But all things considered I’m not sure that means much."

Benny rolls his eyes. "Whatever man, they’ll be here tonight. I’ll introduce you and you can make your own decision. Fair?"

Santi nods once and watches as Benny gets up. "I’ll get the next round." The other men waggle their beers and Benny doesn’t even bother counting before heading off the empty outside patio and back into the bar.

It was a quiet night, at a quiet out of the way bar. From their vantage on the patio over the water they can see people as they arrive, but also are surrounded on three sides by water, minimizing eavesdroppers.

"I don’t like it," Tom grumbles and Santi turns to him.

"I feel like we’ve covered that," he points out.

"Some new guy we don’t know? Fuck Pope, this whole thing is already too dangerous," Tom continues.

"What do you want me to do," he hisses. "I’ve come too fucking far to back out-"

He pauses when he hears the door to the patio open, a waitress coming through with a tray of beers. He’d clocked her from the corner of his eye, about eight miles of the longest legs he’s ever seen in his life, bare from tiny denim shorts down to a pair of unlaced combat boots.

Those were odd. Not necessarily what he would have expected. He studies her a bit more closely as she sets the tray of beers down, squatting next to the table to transfer the tray from her shoulder to the table. Tom had already fallen face first into the girl’s cleavage - which was either ample or benefitting greatly from being on display in a bright orange halter top that started somewhere around her rib cage. She returned Tom’s lascivious stare with a wink, brushing her body against the man’s as she stood back up and passed one of the bottles to him.

Santi reached for one but was blocked by her body as she leaned across the table, sliding a bottle to Frankie who rubbed a hand over his mouth and tried in vain to make eye contact with something other than her breasts. Will was silent on receiving his, a half smile on his face as he watched her stretch a bottle to him. Finally she turns to Santi, placing the last beer in front of him and flipping the tray up under her arm.

"Tu amigo pagó," she smiles, gesturing with her chin inside. He glances that way and sees Benny nodding back from the bar, tucking bills into his wallet. "Tienes algo…" she starts to say and he turns back to see her pluck a bit of fuzz off the collar of his shirt. Smiling, she pinches it between her fingers and flicks it over his shoulder. "De nada."

"Gracias," he winks at her and she winks back before flouncing off the patio and back into the bar. Both Frankie and Tom turn around fully in their chairs to watch her - but Santi was perfectly positioned to watch the sway of her ass as she went back inside.

"Hot _damn_ ," Tom gives a low whistle.

Santi rolls his eyes, focusing on the beer in front of him. To his left, Frankie is fiddling with a coaster before he suddenly jerks and looks at his hand with suspicion.

"What the fuck?" Frankie snaps. "Where the fuck is my hat?"

"What?" Will asks.

"My hat. My fucking hat." Frankie holds up the coaster and glares at it, then at Santi. "Where is my fucking hat?"

"Did you set it-" Santi starts but Frankie cuts him off.

"I was holding it in my goddamn hand. And now I’m not." Frankie pushes himself back from the table, peering under it.

"What’s got Fish riled up?" Benny asks, sliding into a chair on the other side of the table.

"He’s throwing a fit about his hat," Will fills him in.

"Fuck you, I liked that hat," Frankie grouses, eyes still scanning the floor.

Ben laughs and Frankie shoots him a dirty look. "Ah, I see you’ve met our thief then," Benny says with a satisfied smirk.

"What?" Frankie jerks forward, the legs of his chair hitting the wood of the deck with a _thunk_.

Santi cocks his head, "You set up a little audition did you?" When Benny nods Santi grins. "The waitress?" Will nods again and gestures to someone inside. A minute later, the woman pulls up a chair next to Ben - wearing Frankie’s hat. He had to admit, she looked cute. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her face before, a little preoccupied with other parts of her, but she was quite stunning.

"You should give Frankie his hat back," Santi tells her in a low voice.

"Nah," Frankie quickly interjects, a little slack-jawed. "You can uh… you can keep it. For a bit." She grins at Frankie and judging from the look on his friend’s face, Santi had an idea of what mental image Frankie would be jerking off to later that night.

"Boys, this is Wildcat," Ben wraps an arm over the woman’s shoulders, "the best thief I’ve ever met. And ours for this mission."

"Neat trick with the hat," Tom says to her breasts.

"Not to burst your bubble Benny," she turns to him, "but I can’t take the job."

"What? Why not?"

She reaches into her top and while Santi would have sworn that you couldn’t fit so much as a tic-tac in there she manages to pull out a small baggie of off-white crystal powder. A flick of her wrist and it lands in the middle of the table. "I don’t deal with this kind of shit."

Santi reaches for it, getting there just before Tom who mutters 'bitch' under his breath. Holding it up for a moment he studies it before hiding it under his palm on the table. "Who’d you take it from?"

"Me," Tom sounds defeated.

"Yeah, like I said, I don’t deal with this kind of shit." She turns to Benny and shrugs, "Sorry babe, you’ll have to find someone else." She gets up, leaning over the table and placing the ball cap back on Frankie’s head and giving it a flirtatious tap. From his angle, Santi can see practically the same view as Frankie, as well as the line of her back and the curve of her ass as she leans over.

She kisses the top of Ben’s head when she stands up, giving Tom a wide berth and going around the table. Santi doesn’t watch her past that, eyes on Tom.

"What the fu-" but he’s interrupted by something shiny dropping onto the table.

"Sorry," her voice was right next to his ear, "forgot this."

It takes Santi a full five seconds to process what he’s seeing. One of his dog tags. He pulls his chain out of his shirt quickly, sees the primary one… and the loose shorter chain hanging empty.

"Son of a-" he turns but she’s at the door already, winking and blowing him a kiss before leaving.

"Pope let me-" Tom starts but Santi turns on him.

"Fucking meth, man? What’s wrong with you?"

"Hey, it’s just a bit to help me keep going," Tom raises his hands, "don’t fucking act like it’s the end of the fucking world."

"You’re out," Santi says it with finality.

" _What_?"

"Anyone have a problem with that?" Santi looks at the other three men but they all shake their heads.

"Fuck you," Tom spits, "fucking Fish has a coke problem and I don’t see any of you-"

"Hey," Frankie leans forward, pointing a finger at Tom, "you can go fuck yourself."

"Not if I-"

But Santi is on his feet, hands in Tom’s shirt as he walks the man backwards a few steps and shoves him against the low railing on the patio. "I love you man, but I can’t have this shit. It’s too important. Go back to the hotel."

Tom deflates. "It’s just to help man. Just to help."

"I know," he pats Tom on the shoulder. "I know. But you’re gonna have to sit this one out." Santi watches the other man leave. "Go get her back," he tells Ben.

Will swipes the baggie from the table, raising an eyebrow in question and Santi nods. Will quickly turns and tosses it into the lake beyond.

She slid into Tom’s chair without so much as a twitch of her eyebrow that the other man is gone. "Are we trying again?"

Santi sits down to her left. "First tell me how you got my dog tags."

"And my hat," Frankie asks.

"Quick fingers," she says, "two distractions."

"Two?" Frankie asks and she winks at him.

"One. Two." She shrugs each shoulder, making her breasts jiggle with the motion. Frankie blushes and reaches up to cover his face with one hand, pretending to scratch his beard.

"Seriously," Santi grabs her attention again, "how’d you do it?"

She shrugs again, "People don’t watch for the things they should be watching for. You guys… you’re perceptive. Situationally aware. You could probably tell me every weapon within sixty feet of this table." She smiles, "You’ve noticed my hand on your arm, and you’ve noticed my foot against your ankle." He had, was enjoying the feel of her fingers against his skin and her toes rubbing along his sock. "But where is my other hand?"

Santi startles, looking down. Her other hand comes into his line of sight and he sees she’s holding a watch.

"Wait that’s-" Will splutters.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters and hears Ben laugh. He turns on Will, "What were _you_ watching?"

She answers for him, " _He’s_ been watching my mouth." Will coughs but doesn’t deny it. She grins at them both before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, waggling her fingers. "Figure out where someone _wants_ their attention to go and you can make them concentrate on anything."

Santi bites his lip before he looks over at Benny. "You trust her?" Ben nods. "Then she’ll do."

"Oh goodie," she snarks, "a dream come true. So what’s the job?"

Santi lowers his voice as he outlines the next few days. She asks good questions and the five of them roughly map out their plans. When they finish, Santi leans back in his chair. "So, we’ll meet in the hotel lobby tomorrow morning, 0600?" Everyone around him nods except for Ben who just curses.

"Fucking hell Pope, you know I hate mornings."

Will rolls his eyes, smacking his brother in the arm, "How the hell did you get through Airborne with an attitude like that?"

"By being a damned good Ranger," Ben grouses back.

"And cheating on the written shit," Frankie mumbles into his beer. Ben shoots him a glower but Frankie just smiles to himself, ignoring the other man.

"Well, if you boys are done," Cat breaks in, "I have a date." For just a split second Santi thought she was looking at him, but he follows her gaze over his shoulder and sees a petite brunette wearing a leather mini-skirt and white tank top crooking a finger their way. Cat winks back at her and rises gracefully from the table, palms flat against it. He couldn’t help but notice her long fingers.

When she gets to the other woman she wraps a hand behind her neck, pulling the brunette into a kiss. Even in heels, the woman was a good three inches shorter than her. The brunette breaks the kiss and leans into her, whispering into her ear. Santi sees her eyebrow go up, a half smile, and then she was looking back at their table and those beautiful legs were coming their way.

"Ben?"

"Yes Cat?" the man answers with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you vouch for your friends?"

Benny doesn’t hesitate before answering, "With my life."

"That’s good to hear," she grins. "Frankie?"

The man’s head whips around. "Yeah?"

"Would you like to come with us?"

Frankie blinks and Santi almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.

"Wha-?"

"Teresa would like for you to come along. And I’m not opposed. So…?"

Frankie’s moment of confusion passes in a heartbeat and then he is shoving his chair back and scrambling to his feet. "Fuck yes."

She laughs, leading him back to the brunette who is grinning. The brunette wraps one arm around Frankie’s waist and the other around Cat’s as they leave. The three men left at the table watch them go in varying stages of disbelief.

"Lucky son of a bitch," Will mutters and Santi can’t help but nod.

"Some thief you found us Ben," Santi says into his beer as he leans back in his chair.

"She’s the best," Ben grins back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie accepts an invitation to go away with the thief. The night quickly turns into the kind he thought only happened in porn.  
> (Frankie Morales x OFC x OFC)
> 
> Words: 1800ish
> 
> Tags for this chapter: voyeur, dom/sub overtones, ballcap kink, girls loving girls

Frankie’s eyes dart around the small motel room. The two women were murmuring to each other behind him and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He’d heard stories - hell, he’d _watched_ a few of them - about these situations but he was damned if he knew what he was supposed to _do_.

Finally, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, he feels a hand slip into his and he turns and sees Cat smiling at him.

"Come with me," she tugs and he follows her willingly to a chair in a corner of the room. She pushes on his shoulders and he sits down with a hard thud.

"Okay, so there’s a few rules."

Frankie nods dumbly, tongue too tied up to make words.

"First, you’re here by invitation. Which means you have to do as you’re told. Agreed?"

He nods again, eyes on her face.

"Second, you keep your thoughts to yourself unless we ask you a question. Ok?"

He nods.

"And third," she leans over him until his face is practically in her breasts. He can feel the warmth of her breath on his ear. "Third, no touching. Us unless invited, and certainly not yourself."

He whines unconsciously at that but nods. Not exactly what he had hoped for but if this night turned out even half as good as it was shaping up to be he’d be jerking off to these memories until the day he died.

She moves away from him, crossing her arms under her breasts which only served to push them up. "Frankie? What are the rules?"

"No talking, no touching, do as I’m told," he repeats back to her.

Teresa was back in the room now, sliding a hand around Cat’s waist. "Such a good little boy he is," she murmurs into the other woman’s ear.

Cat smiles at him and presses a kiss to his forehead. When she leans back, she has his hat again, settling it over her hair. "We’ll see."

Behind her, Teresa is pulling at the cords of Cat’s halter top and Frankie is met with a view of two of the most beautiful breasts he’s ever seen. His view is quickly blocked by a pair of hands but he doesn’t mind because they’re playing with Cat’s nipples and he watches her lean into Teresa’s arms with a soft sigh.

"Oh, pretty girl," she moans, "you’re impatient."

Teresa responds by biting Cat’s shoulder and Cat arches her back. Teresa’s hands move down the other woman’s body, sliding into the front of the denim shorts. She meets Frankie’s eyes before slowly undoing the top button and lowering the zipper. Frankie’s mouth goes dry and he leans forward. Cat shoots him a look from under her lowered eyelashes even as Teresa pushes and her shorts fall to the floor. She’s bare underneath.

"Nuh uh Frankie," she purrs, lifting a foot to his chest and pushing him back. With her foot lifted like that he has a perfect view of her inner thighs, her lips, the slight shine of wetness already gathered there. He moans. "Stay," she orders and he does so, unable to help the warm flush when she praises him. "Good boy."

She turns then, pushing Teresa back toward the bed, nude except for his hat. The two women whisper to each other and then Cat moves to recline on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow while watching Teresa with a small smile.

Teresa starts to sway, listening to some song only she can hear, and then she strips for them. There is no other way to put it. She alternates giving him and Cat soft looks, pulling off each piece of her clothing one at a time. He wasn’t… _fuck_ was this a thing people did? He wasn’t a virgin, he’d been around the block a few times. Hell he’d even nearly been married once. It just hadn’t occurred to him that nights like tonight actually existed in anything other than 'Letters to Penthouse’.

And then Teresa is kneeling on the bed facing him with her thighs spread and Cat is behind her and the brim of his hat is caressing Teresa’s neck and he’ll never be able to wear it again without thinking of this moment. But there are hands, hands sliding down Teresa’s body to bury themselves between her thighs and Teresa is moaning and Cat looks up and straight into his soul.

No touching, he reminds himself even as he watches Cat licking soft golden skin. No touching, he repeats even as Cat’s hand shifts and he can tell she’s pushed fingers _inside_ of the other woman. His hands are gripping his knees so hard his knuckles are white.

For a moment Frankie is convinced he’s imagining things when he sees Cat crook a finger at him. But then he sees that both women are looking at him, Teresa’s tongue darting out to wet her lower lip, and he stumbles out of his chair towards the bed. They reach for him at the same time and he falls back against the headboard.

Cat shoots him a hard look and he freezes in the act of reaching for them. She gently taps the inside of his thigh and he spreads his legs, watching as she settles Teresa back against his chest. Her ass pressed to his aching cock.

"You’re going to hold poor little Teresa for me, okay Frankie?" Teresa lifts her arms over her head, reaching over Frankie and he follows their direction, reaching up and wrapping his hands around her wrists, his arms holding hers down. Her head is resting on his shoulder and he can see down, down the length of her body to where Cat is kneeling with her hands on Teresa’s thighs.

"You have her?" Cat asks and Frankie nods in return, lips parted. And then he watches as she lays down and then it’s just his hat moving over the woman’s thighs. He can feel Teresa’s body twist, her ass rocking against him when she squirms. Cat uses her hands to spread the other woman’s thighs wide and pushes her feet over Frankie’s calves so his legs are holding her open. Cat looks up at him, for just a moment catching his eye… and she winks. It’s all the warning Frankie gets before she dips her head lower and _drags_ the bill of his ball cap through Teresa’s cunt.

Frankie’s whole body convulses and he feels himself throbbing - dangerously close to coming in his pants. In his arms, Teresa cries out. Cat does it again and this time Frankie can see the dark, wet spot on his cap. The thin line of wetness that stretched from the brim back to Teresa. " _Fuck_ ," the curse falls from his mouth without conscious thought and he adjusts his grip on Teresa to hold the writhing woman even tighter.

Cat laughs, mouth buried in Teresa’s cunt. From this point of view it’s not hard to imagine her mouth on him instead, that she’s got his cock so far down her throat her nose is pressed to his stomach. He groans, arching his hips which only causes him to push Teresa into Cat’s tongue. The women make their own sounds of pleasure at that and he does it again. His hat was shadowing the work Cat was doing, but his brain fills in the gaps.

Suddenly, he feels a slight pressure, a resistance to the movement of his hips, and can see that it’s Cat, holding Teresa’s hip down which in turn is forcing his hips to stop their rolling motion. "Frankie," Cat gently scolds, "what were the rules?"

Frankie curses, mind entirely blank. "No talking, no touching, do as-"

"You’re told," she finishes for him, coming up on her knees. She leans forward and licks Teresa’s neck and the woman in his arms makes a high keening noise. "I would hate for Teresa to not get what she wants because you can’t behave."

"Please Frankie," Teresa begs and Frankie grunts, adjusting his hands on her wrists. His eyes shut for a moment before he gives Cat a nod.

"Good," she purrs, running a finger where his neck and Teresa’s press together and they both shiver. Then she lifts her hands and turns his ball cap around. This time, when she fucks Teresa with her tongue he can see it, see the long licks, the way the hand she has on Teresa’s hip presses her down while Cat’s thumb flicks gently over her clit. See Cat’s other hand come up and thrust two fingers inside Teresa.

He can’t take his eyes off of it. Wouldn’t even if you paid him a million dollars. The view… the woman in his arms, her breasts heaving, nipples puckered. Her ass pressed to him. Her thighs wrapped around Cat’s head. Fuck, he’d _pay_ a million to be able to do this.

And then Teresa comes. Her back arches off of him and he actually has to work to keep holding her arms above their heads. He wants to talk to her, wants to tell her how beautiful she is, but the rules were clear and instead he presses his cheek into her neck and just feels her come apart in his arms.

Cat moves up, straddling both him and Teresa and kissing her softly. He can feel hands on his and he lets Teresa go, sliding his hands down her arms as they lower and wrap around Cat. His own fingers twitch, aching to touch either of them, but he settles his hands on the bed instead, clenching the comforter in his fists. The two women kiss and he watches them, noting the differences between their kisses and the one’s he’s experienced. How soft it looks. How often they pause and gently lick at each other.

Soon, Teresa is leaning forward, out of his embrace and he doesn’t follow, stays still, waiting for his next instruction. Cat looks at him over Teresa’s shoulder and smiles.

"Thank you for your service soldier." She lifts the cap from her head and places it on his. "I think I can take it from here." She turns Teresa, laying her on the bed and waves a hand in his direction. He moves slowly off the bed. "I’ll see you tomorrow," she calls after him.

He looks back one final time. At the two women stretched out on the bed together, taking a mental picture of it before he opens the door and steps out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day on the job, Santiago and Wildcat get to know each other better.  
> (Santiago Garcia x OFC)
> 
> Words: 5000ish (JFC)
> 
> Tags for this chapter: oral (m receiving). bondage. light dom/sub. toy use. edging. PiV sex.  
> Look - when I say they get to know each other I mean biblically

Santi can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the smile on Frankie’s face the next morning. The bastard is practically humming as he wanders out in front of the hotel, hands in his pockets.

"Nice night?" he asks sarcastically.

Frankie’s smile turns into a grin, "Damn right it was."

"Is it going to affect this op?"

Frankie turns to him and his brows draw together. "What do you mean?"

"You and Wildcat. Is it going to affect this? I didn’t want to to say anything last night but-"

"Oh shit, nah," Frankie shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, "Honestly, I’m not even sure she’s into dudes."

Well that was fucking cryptic. "You’re telling me you didn’t-"

"I mean," Frankie shrugs, grinning again, "I had _fun_."

"What was fun?" Ben’s voice pipes up out of nowhere. Santi turns to Ben and Will as the former throws an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. "How was _your_ night mi amigo?" Ben asks.

Frankie scratches at his cheek and looks away, staying silent, but his smile is answer enough for Ben who gives a small whoop and claps him on the back. Frankie reaches up and adjusts his ball cap, and Santi is sure he sees the man blush.

"Enough of that," Santi snaps, flipping his keys in his hand. "Where is-"

"Your smooth criminal?" A voice calls and Santi turns to see Wildcat walking towards them. She’s wearing a pair of low-slung khakis and a white tank, holding a bag over her shoulder. If at all possible, she looks even sexier than she had the night before.

She’s also got a hickey.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Ben nudge Frankie and Frankie quickly shake his head. But the man is still grinning. "You’re late," Santi tells her.

She tilts her head at him and holds up her wrist, tilting the watch to him. "Oh six hundred on the dot."

"On time is late," he tells her, swinging into the driver’s seat. He just catches her rolling her eyes, opening the door behind his and tossing her bag in.

"Is he always like that or is it me?"

"He’s always like this," Will replies, unfairly he thinks, as he slides into the passenger seat.

Ben beats Frankie to the second row of seats and climbs in next to Wildcat, leaving Frankie alone in the back row of the SUV.

They set up their reconnaissance posts around the mark. Frankie sitting reading a newspaper at a cafe on the corner, Will and Ben in an abandoned storefront across the street, cameras on the doors, and himself and Wildcat in an empty apartment just up the street.

- _Alright boys, let me get a comms check._ \- Santi says in a low voice into his radio.

_-Catfish copy.-_

_-Ironhead copy.-_

_-Benny copy.-_

- _Wildcat copy_ \- she says from behind him.

She’s setting up the equipment with practiced movements, adjusting the microphones as he points out the different rooms. They only have three mics, two with them, one down with Will and Ben, so they have to choose which rooms they’re going to cover. He flicks the last button on the surveillance cameras and watches the feed go live on the screen inside.

"Channel Four, got it," she makes a small satisfied noise as she says it, leaning in to watch the videos go by.

Santi sits next to her, watching the mark go about his day. The ins and outs. The silence stretches between them, thick.

"I’m not a fan of my team fucking each other on an op," he finally says.

"What?" her gaze jerks up to his.

"You and Frankie. I don’t like it. It complicates things," he explains.

"What? I didn’t fuck Frankie." She’s practically spluttering as she says it. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

Santi shakes his head in confusion, "What the hell happened last night then?"

"I fucked a perfectly nice girl I picked up in a bar."

Santi raises his eyebrow, "And Frankie?"

She smiles fondly and shrugs, "She wanted him to watch."

"Seems like splitting hairs," he tells her.

"Oh honey," her voice drips with false concern, "if you don’t know the difference…"

He blushes. Son of a bitch, he blushes. And she laughs at him, grinning as she turns back to the feeds. "Frankie seems nice but he’s not exactly my type."

"Not a girl?" Santi asks as casually as possible.

"Too willing to take orders," she corrects, not looking at him. "I don’t mind being in charge. But sometimes you just want someone to throw you down and _fuck_ you, ya know?"

Her words go straight to his groin. Yeah. He knew. He fucking _knew_.

"Tell Frankie he’s doing a shit job pretending to read," she interrupts his thoughts.

Santi grunts and speaks quietly into the mic on his collar. From their vantage they can see Frankie frown and turn the edge of the paper quickly.

"Is he really the best guy for this?"

"He’ll be fine," Santi reassures her.

Another half hour passes. He fidgets. He had never been good at this kind of shit. He checks his watch. "I’m going to go check on Ironhead and Benny."

She waves at him, not looking, "Tell 'em I said hi."

Will and Ben have a deck of cards out on a low table in the shop, both of them keeping half an eye on the screens. Santi double-checks the cameras they’ve set up, the microphone, and ignores their jabs about not trusting them to do their job. He trusts them. He just wanted to check.

Satisfied, he pulls a milk crate up where they can deal him in and he can watch the screen at the same time. An hour passes.

\- _Allcom allcom, Wildcat. I believe I see our entry.-_

Santi gets up quickly, crossing to glance out through the paper covering the storefront’s windows. There’s a van backed up to the side of the building across the street. Looking down at the cameras, he can see several men with rifles standing at or near windows. In fact, every feed is showing him more and more guards. He tilts his face down to his mic, speaking in a voice that won’t carry through to the street.

- _Wildcat, Pope. Too many people. Every fucking guy in the place is on alert right now.-_

_-Damn right they are Pope. Catfish, Catfish, Wildcat. You copy?-_

_-Wildcat, Catfish. I copy.-_

_-Tell me what you see.-_

_-I see… not a damn thing.-_

There’s a pause on the comms and Santi swears he can almost hear her laughing.

 _-That’s right. Not a damn thing. That’s my way in boys._ -

Back at the hotel, the group crowded into Benny’s room - over the man’s loud protests - and Wildcat laid out her plan. It was solid. Well thought out. She’d lift a set of keys tomorrow, be in the house when the deliveries happened and everyone was dealing with that, and back out with what they needed. Seven minutes in the house. Two lifts. They’d be there to cover her and create a distraction if necessary.

Easy enough.

When they all went their separate directions for the night, Santiago went down to the bar with Frankie, ordering a couple of beers. Maybe now he could actually get some details out of the man.

"Pope it was like one of those fucking sex columns, ya know?" Frankie takes a swig of his beer, eye wide. "'I never thought it would happen to me’ and all that."

"Yeah, but what _happened_ ," Santi prods.

"They-" but whatever Frankie was going to say, he cuts himself off and his eyes flick over Santi’s shoulder. Santi looks up into the mirror across the room and sees Wildcat, weaving through the tables.

"Hey Fish," she grins when she gets next to them, "got this for you."

Frankie reaches out hesitatingly and takes the piece of paper she’s holding, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Teresa wanted me to give you her number," she explains.

"Really?" The stupid look on Frankie’s face makes Santi snort.

"Yeah, really," she replies. "Enough to make a girl jealous. I spend the night with her but she wants _your_ number."

Frankie rubs a hand across his jaw, but he can’t hide the grin there - doesn’t really even try to. "Ahem, yeah, I think I’ll just…" he stands and Santi watches him go with a tight smile.

 _Good for him_.

Next to him, Wildcat sighs, slumping into Frankie’s vacated seat. "Wanna get drunk?"

"Aw," Santi coos in mock concern, "drowning a broken heart are we?"

She leans her head back, shutting her eyes. "Nah, she was nice but obviously just experimenting. I hope he has fun."

"Oh, I think he will," Santi smiles as he finishes his beer. He raises an eyebrow at her when she shoots him a look. "Drink?"

She nods and Santi smiles, getting up and heading to the bar. It was time to get to know his newest team member. His newest _stacked_ team member.

He comes back with two beers and slides one over to her. She presses it to her neck for a minute before taking a swig and Santi can’t help but notice the way her throat works.

"So tell me," he asks in his best friendly voice, "how does one get into your line of work?"

"Looking to switch sides?" she asks with a sideways grin.

He huffs a small laugh. "No, just curious."

"Well," she sighs, "to start you spend six years in the Navy serving your country and then get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and get yourself a dishonorable discharge."

"You served?" He can’t help the incredulous note in his voice.

She must have caught it. "Don’t act so surprised Ranger." He opens his mouth but she cuts him off, "Y’all all walk the same. It’s a very distinctive walk."

"So dishonorable discharge…" he knows better than to ask but can’t help but pry, just a little. There are never _good_ stories there, but there’s always a story.

"Like I said, wrong place, wrong time. It was a good way to get rid of me." She sits up straighter, tossing back the last of her beer. "This isn’t doing it for me. Shots?"

Santi considered it for a moment before shrugging and watches her as she goes to the bar. He can see it a little now. The way she carries herself. She’d had some sort of combat training - even if he might not have guessed military.

She comes back with two more beers and two shots of tequila. She grins as she passes one to him, showing him her hands. "He wouldn’t let me bring the salt back with me so…" There’s a line of salt on both of her hands, in the fleshy part between the forefinger and thumb. "You don’t mind do you?"

Santi picks up the shot, "Salud?"

"Salud!" she echoes and tosses hers back at the same time as he does. She shivers and licks at the inside of her thumb, holding her other hand out to him. He laughs before taking it, snaking his tongue out to lick up the salt - the hint of limón. And underneath it, the taste of her.

She finishes first, turning to meet his eyes. He doesn’t lift his mouth from her though, just holds her hand up with one of his and darts his tongue between the web of her fingers. He sees her eyes go soft, the way her lips part and he smiles to himself as he traces his tongue up her thumb before pulling it into his mouth.

The moan that escapes her goes straight to his cock. He hadn’t intended this, hadn’t intended to make a move. But there was something about that walk, the taste of her skin, that drove his better intentions out of his head.

"Pope?" She whispers and he carefully scrapes his teeth along the pad of her thumb and she shudders, her eyes raking down him from head to toe before slowly sliding back up. He can _feel_ it. Feel her look like a caress and suddenly his clothes don’t seem to fit him right.

"Would you like to take this somewhere more private?" he asks.

"What happened to 'no fucking each other on an op'?" she replies with a lopsided grin.

He gives her his widest, sexiest smile, "That’s only for my team. Doesn’t apply to me."

"Oh, well in that case," she leans towards him and he feels her hand slide up the inside of his thigh, stopping dangerously close to his cock, "yes."

Fuck he’d forgotten the question. "Yes?"

She squeezes and he sees stars. "Yes I’d like to go somewhere more private with you."

He nods once and stands up, using her hand to pull her to her feet and draw her out of the bar. "I share a wall with Will," he tells her.

"I’ve got the murder room." She says it with a perfectly straight face and he nearly trips over his feet on the stairs.

"The what?"

"The murder room," she shrugs. "Stairwell on one side, vending machines on the other." She stops, pushing him back against the wall on the landing. "No shared walls. No one to hear you scream."

He grunts, wrapping one arm around her and spinning them, changing their positions so he’s got her caged between him and the wall. "I should warn you," he lowers his mouth to just above hers. "I definitely don’t take orders well. Certainly not from a squid."

He can feel her laugh, the soft huff of air caressing his lips. "Well I’m not about to take orders from a jarhead."

He hums, brushing his lips against hers, "Wanna bet?" He doesn’t wait for her answer, just grabs her hips, lifting her and thrusting his thigh between her legs, his tongue into her mouth.

Fuck she tastes good. Faintly of tequila and cheap beer and underneath it something unquestionably _her_ that he can’t get enough of. He feels her squirm against him, her body arching into his chest and he groans into her mouth.

"Which floor?"

"Second," her voice is breathy and he can’t help feeling a little proud. He disengages, pushing her up the stairs ahead of him so he can watch her ass. She doesn’t look back, just leads him to her room, pulling the key from her pocket. He takes it before she can use it, reaching around her to hold her wrists, pressing his body to her back. He lifts her arms, pressing them to the door, and rocks his cock against her ass.

"If anything happens on the other side of that door you don’t like you just say 'Garcia.’ Comprende?" She moans and he presses against her harder, letting a bite enter his voice. "Say it pretty thing."

"Garcia," she gasps and he bites the tendon of her neck. He can hear her nails raking against the wood and only then does he unlock the door. Pushing her inside and locking it behind him.

"What am I supposed to call you when I do like it?" she asks, slowly backing away from him.

"You can call me sir," he says it in a low rumble, designed to have just a hint of menace to it. He sees the change in her, sees the quick breath she takes, the lift of her breasts against her shirt and he feels his lips twitch.

"Take off your clothes," it’s his command voice. One that brokers no disobedience and she complies immediately, lifting her shirt over her head and her hands dropping to the buttons of her khakis. He doesn’t move as she does it, just stands and watches her. When she’s fully nude he tilts his head to the bed. "On your hands and knees kitten."

She hesitates, not long enough to make him say it again but just long enough to let him know she thought about it. Then she turns and all he can see is those thighs, that ass, the curve of her spine as she kneels on the bed and then places her palms down on the comforter. He steps behind her, running a hand up her thigh and pressing his fingers between her legs. He doesn’t expect to find much - they’ve only just started - but he’s pleasantly surprised to feel slick heat coating his fingers and he easily slips against her.

"Already this wet?" He hums to himself as he strokes her, sees her back bow and her chin drop. "Someone is feeling a little needy." He presses two fingers inside her without warning, groaning at the tight squeeze of her muscles. "Are you craving cock kitten?"

She moans and he pulls his hand away, using it to swat her ass with a loud _slap_. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

"Yes."

"Yes what," he’s moving around the bed, looking at her from every angle.

"Yes _sir_."

The words do wonderful things to him, pulsing inside his blood. She’s looking at him out of the corner of her eye, her mouth open, lips red and full. And then she licks them and he knows exactly what he wants.

"Come here," he beckons her with one hand, the other pulling his belt free. She glides to her knees in front of him, sitting back on her heels. He has his clothes undone in a moment, pushing his jeans and briefs down and pulling his cock free.

She fucking licks her lips.

He groans, sliding one hand behind her head to pull her forward but she doesn’t need the instruction. Her mouth closes over the head of him and he drops his chin to his chest and watches her suck his cock.

"Mmm," he sighs and she moans around him, taking him deeper. Pressing her mouth down around him until he can feel himself bump the back of her throat. "Oh fuck yeah," his fingers twist in her hair for a moment, holding her there before letting her move back. She looks up at him, pretty eyes framed by dark lashes. He can see her tongue on him, see the way her cheeks hollow out as she sucks on him. And she doesn’t break eye contact as she pulls him into her until he hits that back of her throat again and then goes further. Until her nose is pressed to his skin and he can hear the soft choking noises she makes as she keeps him there.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He can feel his jaw working, his teeth gritting against each other. She swallows and he can feel that too. Feel the muscles of her throat flex around him and he pulls out, just an inch, and pushes back inside of her mouth. She gags, eyes welling up with tears and he lifts one hand to gently wipe them away.

"Do you want me to stop?"

This time she’s the one who moves. She’s the one who pulls away, taking a deep gasping breath, his cock pressing to her lower lip.

"Santi please," she gasps and he tilts her face up to his..

"You know what to say to make this stop," he rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek.

"I don’t want it to stop." Her confession makes his vision go white for a second and he could come right then just from the note of pleading in her voice.

"Good girl," he whispers and then he pushes himself back into her mouth. Not waiting for her. Pushing himself all the way with his hand cupping her jaw until he bottoms out. He can see drool leaking from the corner of her mouth and he wipes his thumb against it - smearing it across her face. "Fuck Kitten, you look so good taking my cock."

And then he’s got both hands in her hair, her hands on his hips, and he’s fucking her face and _fucking hell_ he can already feel himself coming. Feel his balls drawing tighter, his toes curling in his boots.

"If you don’t want a throat full of cum you need to move. _Now_ ," he warns. But she doesn’t, just opens those beautiful eyes and stares into his soul and she swallows every last drop he gives her.

Santi comes back to an awareness of his body slowly. The ache of his knees, how tightly he has her hair twisted between his fingers, the softness of her mouth as she continues to hold him inside her. He laughs, softly, as he pulls her away, groaning at the slight whimper she gives when his cock pulls free of her lips. He brushes a hand over her cheek, titling her face up as he leans down and brushes a kiss over her lips. " _Very_ good girl."

Oh yeah, he had clocked her right. She liked that. She liked that a _lot_. He tucks himself away, zipping his pants but not bothering with the buttons. Then he pulls his belt out, slowly. "Give me your hands." She raises them without hesitation, wrists crossed in front of her. He takes his time wrapping his belt around them, watching her face. The way her lips part, the soft look in her eyes.

He hooks a hand under her elbow and helps her stand, then lowers her to the bed, arms above her. He stands back up, running a hand over the short hair on the side of his head. He opens the bedside drawer, glances in and then closes it. His eyes scan the nightstand, and then he looks around the room. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Your vibe," he turns to her, raising an eyebrow. "There’s no way you came on this trip without one."

She bites her lip and then gestures with her chin to a small zippered bag across the room. Santi fetches it, looking inside to see not just her vibrator, but lube and condoms as well. Exactly what he was hoping for. He places the bag on the nightstand, keeping the small, bright purple toy. He looks it over for a second and then turns it on, sees her squirm when the low buzzing fills the room. He clicks the button experimentally, hears several different settings before it turns off.

Grinning, he clicks it on what he now knows is the lowest setting, placing it on her stomach as he shifts to lay on the bed next to her. He’s still fully clothed but has enough foresight to hang his boots over the edge.

Propping his head up on one hand he picks the small toy up, dragging it up her ribs and stroking it along the skin of her breast. "Tell me about the op tomorrow."

She arches, managing to press her nipple to the toy before he moves it away. "What?"

He grins, lightly teasing, dragging the vibe up her neck and then back down. "Tomorrow. Step by step. _Tell me_." He drops his voice into a deeper register, stressing the last two words.

She moans and starts talking. He interrupts occasionally, telling her to start over when she misses something, or fill in more details when she tries to mumble past something. And the whole time she talks, he runs the toy over her skin. Down her stomach, across her inner thighs, back up to circle her nipples. She’s cursing between words now, her knees bent and legs falling open, hips coming off the bed as he carefully avoids her wet center.

When she finishes her litany he’s ready, vibe tucked neatly in the cleft of two fingers. As the last words stutter out of her he reaches down and cups her, pressing the vibe up against her clit _hard_.

She shrieks, back arching and he leans down to murmur into her ear, "No one can hear you scream, remember?" He rocks his hand, pressing into her experimentally. She writhes next to him, her elbows coming down, hands clenching but he catches them with his free hand, stretching her arms back up high above her head. Throwing a knee over her nearest leg to keep her spread open for him.

"Do you want to come kitten?" He licks her neck, right over the hickey that’s already there. Biting down and adding his own mark to the already bruised skin.

"Yes sir," she gasps and he feels a jolt go through him. He moves his knee, releasing her leg and he tucks the vibe up against her before letting it go and closing her legs around it. She whines, a high keening noise that settles straight into his bones. Her thighs are moving, rubbing against each other, trying to get her vibe where she needs it. Get the pressure she needs.

"Please," she’s begging, eyes closed, neck arched.

He moves away from her with one push, standing next to the bed where he can see all of her. "Don’t move," he orders and she goes still. Well, mostly. Her thighs are still rubbing together, ever so slightly. But he doesn’t begrudge her that. "And don’t come."

She bites her lip, brows drawing together but she nods at him. He nods back and then props one of his feet on the nightstand, unlacing his boot and dropping it to the floor with a solid thunk. Then the other. She watches him the whole time, but he doesn’t take anything else off. Not even his socks. Just crawls over her on the bed and presses his face to the tightly pressed flesh of her thighs.

"Fuck I bet you taste amazing," he murmurs into her skin.

"You could find out," she pants.

He _tsks_ under his breath, "I never go down on the first date." A blatant lie. He knew it, was pretty sure she knew it. But he was already planning what he wanted to do the next time he got his hands on her so there was no reason not to tease her… just a little. Give her something to look forward to. So instead he plants one hand next to her hip, lifting himself off of her. Then he forces the other between her thighs, scooping the small vibrator out. He hums to himself, his hand is practically covered in the wet slick of her.

"That’s enough of that," he chides before moving to lie back on the pillows, pulling her up to her knees next to him at the same time. He reaches over and then hands her a condom. She looks at it, then at her bound wrists. He just raises an eyebrow, and stacks his hands behind his head, watching her. She squirms for a moment, rubbing her thighs together, then she unzips him, pulling his hard cock out and awkwardly rolling the condom on.

She presses her palm to his stomach to steady herself when she straddles him and he puts one hand down to guide her onto the length of his cock, watching it slide inside of her. _Fuck_ she was wet. And fucking tight, muscles squeezing around him.

She arches over him, hands clenching into the skin of his stomach and he taps her wrists and motions upwards. She takes his meaning immediately, settling them behind her head. This new position forces her breasts forwards, her spine straighter, and he pushes up inside her until he can feel himself touch the very core of her. She gasps, a broken sound that is the sexiest damn thing he’s ever heard and he pushes slightly, trying to see if she can take his last inch.

"Santi," she chokes out and he snarls, grabbing her hips and rocking himself into her heat. Every time he thrusts she makes that same choked gasp, half his name, half some other noise.

It’s fucking music is what it is.

And the look of her… _fuck_. Back arched, knees pressing into his jeans. He hadn’t undressed further than his boots and there’s something about the sight of her riding him, coming undone on his cock while he’s still clothed that is making him _feral_.

He bends his knees and thrusts up, watches her jaw drop, feels her struggle to take him. He reaches to the side, hand searching until he finds the vibe and then quickly clicks it up to a heavy pulsing thrum and slides it between them, using three fingers to hold it to her clit.

"Santi, fuck _Santi_ ," he’s going to come but not without her first. Not without feeling her.

"Do it," he urges, rocking the toy back and forth in rhythm with his hips. "Come on my cock. Do it for me."

When she does he falls apart. His vision goes white and everything becomes pressure and heat and the feel of her wetness on his fingers and thighs. He can vaguely hear her calling his name. Vaguely hear the choked sobs she’s making. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps fucking her and pressingto her clit, letting the clench of her body milk every last shudder of his own orgasm out of him. He’s bit his hip so hard he can taste blood and it’s the mix of that and the tortured pleas coming from her mouth that finally bring him back to reality.

"Please, please, Santi. Please stop. God I can’t. Please. Santiago. _Garci_ -"

He jerks his hand away so quickly the vibrator flies across the room. In one motion he sits up and wraps his arms around her, feels her bound wrists settle behind his neck and he flips them both down to the bed, holding her close.

"Fuck," he whispers into her neck, "fuck I’m sorry. Fuck."

She’s shaking in his arms. "No, it’s… It was just too much. _Fuck_ Santi it was so good…"

"I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you." He strokes his hands down her back, trying to soothe her. He can feel tremors in his own body. Aftershocks from what might have been the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life.

He holds her like that until he can feel her settle, feel his own heart rate approach something that resembles normal. His cock has gone soft, the condom now an uncomfortable and sticky presence between them. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t let her go. Just keeps stroking her back and whispering into her ear.

"Bravo Zulu," she whispers and he can’t help the self-satisfied smile at her praise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: Frankie gets a date with Teresa.  
> (Frankie Morales x OFC “Teresa”)  
> [this is an actual named and described OFC, not reader-insert Wildcat]
> 
> Words: a quickie at 1300 or so
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) masturbation (f). fingering. oral sex (f receiving). PiV sex.

Frankie laid back on his bed, legs splayed in front of him. Phone in one hand and piece of paper clutched in the other. The numbers on it mocked him. They were supposed to be covert. In and out of the country in less than a month. Less than two weeks if they could swing it.

 _Definitely_ not supposed to call up some woman he had been in the vicinity of having sex with. No matter how cute she was.

_F: hey it’s Frankie_

_F: from last night_

But a text was nothing. Nothing important. Nothing to be worried about. Just a text. A simple- When his phone vibrates he drops it, quickly scrambling to pick it up from between his legs.

_T: hey_

_T: was nice meeting u_

What does he say to that? It was nice holding you down while you came? You look beautiful while your cunt is being eaten out? My hat smells like you?

_F: you to_

He groans, pressing a hand to his face and leaning back against the pillows. He sucked at this. The phone vibrates again and he takes a deep breath before looking at it.

_T: ur cute_

Well, that wasn’t the worst thing.

_F: Your beautiful_

_T:_ 🥰

_T: wht r u doing 2nite?_

Frankie pauses, looking around his hotel room. Then down at his phone.

_F: You?_ 😉

A long minute passes after he hits send. Long enough for him to regret every decision he’s ever made in his life. Why the _fuck_ had he sent a goddamn winking emoji? What the hell was he thinking? He throws an arm over his eyes.The phone vibrates in his hand and he holds it up and cracks one eye to look at it, then sits bolt upright staring at the screen.

_T: u wanna?_

Did he _want_ to? He’s up and grabbing his keys before his screen can time out, in the hallway and texting her with both hands while he flings himself down the stairs.

_F: where?_

According to his GPS, the address was six blocks over. It wasn’t a large town, thankfully, and he was standing outside the door in fifteen minutes, running a hand through his hair and wondering if this might be a mistake. He should have taken a shower at least, done something other than come straight over like a dog in heat. The apartment he’s standing at is part of a row of similar ones, no lights on inside. He only has the vaguest idea what part of town he’s even in.

"If you get robbed chasing some pussy it will fucking serve you right," he mutters to himself and then knocks. He hears the voice telling him to come in and takes a deep breath before opening the door.

He’s not sure what he expects to find, but it certainly isn’t Teresa, sitting on a couch in a sundress with one hand under her skirt. The top pulled down under one breast while she rolls her nipple between two fingers.

Well, at least he could be reasonably certain he wasn’t going to get robbed.

"You, uh," he swallows and nods at her, "you want some help with that?"

She pulls the hand out from under her skirt and holds it out to him and he sinks down next to her on the couch, turning his body to hers and capturing her lips with his own. His hand lands on her thigh, sliding up immediately and he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at the exact moment he realizes how ready she is. He licks inside her mouth, feels her moan and he slides his fingers through her cunt.

"You got started without me," he mutters into her mouth and he hears her giggle, her hands coming up and running around his neck.

"I like your hat," she says and he grunts.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Will you keep it on?" He tries not to think too hard about the request. About the fact that Wildcat had been wearing it the night before. About what that means.

If this pretty little thing wanted him to keep his hat on he’d fucking keep his hat on.

"You can have whatever you like baby," he says before capturing her lips again and pushing one of his fingers inside of her. She pulls at his t-shirt and he ducks his head - letting her lift it up and carefully maneuver it over his head. Her nails rake down his back and he curses, leaving her mouth to pull her nipple between his lips.

"Frankie," she moans and he thrusts his finger inside of her, feels her clench down on it when he flicks his tongue against her. "I want your mouth Frankie."

"Where?" he mumbles around her, scraping his teeth on her nipple.

Her hands clench his shoulders, pushing him down and he goes willingly, sliding to his knees on the floor and flipping her skirt up. He dives in immediately, tongue out and seeking her clit, hands slipping under her thighs and pulling her forward until her ass is on the edge of the cushion. He holds her, his hands clenched on her hips, and she grabs the hair just behind his ears and _fuck_ he’d missed this. It had been weeks since he broke up with his last girl - and they hadn’t had sex for months before that. Months since he’d been able to put his mouth on someone else.

She pulls on his head, shifting his mouth slightly and he moans - gratefully following her. He liked clear signals. Like it when people were clear about what they wanted from him.

"Fuck me Frankie."

"Yes ma’am," Frankie complies, standing and unbuckling his pants. She shifts on the couch, leaning back against the arm and he puts one knee between her thighs as he leans over her. "You got protection?"

She reaches over her head, grabbing a condom from the end table and handing it to him. He rips the package open with his teeth, setting it on his cock with one hand and rolling it down while covering her bare breast with the other. She’s moaning again, her thighs even further apart and he hunches over and places his cock at her entrance, shoving inside her. He sees her bite her lip and he pulls her hips to meet him, laying her further back on the couch.

It’s been too long. Feeling her clench around him he groans, mouthing at her neck. "Fuck baby, you feel so good."

"Harder Frankie," she pants and he lifts one of her legs up to his shoulder, sitting back on his knees and using his hands on her hips to hold her. Her breasts are bouncing with each thrust of his hips, her face tilted back. Her hand wriggles between them and he swallows, body jerking, when he sees her fingers moving over her clit.

"Fuck, I’m sorry," his jaw drops, brow furrowing. "It’s been too long." He can feel his control slipping, his orgasm curling just behind his eyes.

"It’s okay," she reassures him and he shudders over her, hips losing their rhythm, turning his face into her calf and kissing her as he comes. He hangs his head, trying to catch his breath, feels the slight shivers go through his body. And her hand, still between them.

He pulls out, pinching the base of his cock to make sure he doesn’t lose the condom and quickly slips it off, tying it and tossing it into an ashtray nearby. "Let me," he settles back between her thighs.Setting his tongue where her fingers are and pressing two of his own fingers inside of her. She sighs when he does it, fingers moving to caress his neck. He grabs her wrist with his free hand, guiding it into his hair.

"Show me," he murmurs into her and she does. Guides his mouth to exactly where she needs it. The clench of her fingers telling him when he gets the right tempo. He settles into the work, ignoring his aching back and driving her higher and higher. When she comes he feels it on his hand and in the way she twists his hair. She also screams his name, which was more than nice.

It was downright _delightful_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready for the op, Wildcat and Santiago find themselves on a private channel.  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Words: 2100
> 
> Rating: R? NC-17? (Explicit) language. dirty talk.

"Here," Wildcat presses a small piece of silicon into Santi’s hand and he held it up. "They work off bone conduction, can just about pick up your thoughts." She hands him a cell phone. "I’ve got everything wired right now through this handheld. It should automatically temper the sound so it won’t matter what volume we’re talking at - it’ll modulate it into a narrow range." She grins, "Don’t want to blow out your ear drum."

Santi turns the earbud over in his fingers before pressing it into his right ear. "Comms check?"

She glances up at him, "Loud and clear."

It’s an odd sensation, he hears her voice like normal, but also simultaneously like she’s right inside his head with him. "What’s the range on these?"

"About a hundred yards." She taps a button on the phone in his hand and he no longer hears her echoing. Then she pulls a black beanie out of her bag, settling it on her head and making sure all her hair is tucked away. "Please remember that I won’t be on main comms. If there’s anything I need to know you’re going to have to repeat it to me."

"Yeah, about that-" he starts but she cuts him off.

"One of your giant radios is going to be too obvious. No way. I need to at least be _capable_ of blending in."

Santi looks her up and down. She’s got on a pair of dirty jeans and a grey t-shirt. The jeans are loose, falling straight down her legs and hiding the curves of her body. The t-shirt… "What did you do to your-" he gestures at her chest.

She squats at her bag, slipping a knife into one boot and another behind her belt. "Left them back at the hotel." At his raised eyebrow she grins. "Didn’t you know all boobs are detachable?"

"We talking about boobs in here?" Will’s voice precedes him into the room.

Wildcat turns to him with a smile. "We should always be talking about boobs. They’re amazing."

"I don’t like it," Santi grunts.

"Boobs?" Benny asks with an incredulous look following behind Will, Frankie a few feet behind him.

"This," Santi gestures at Wildcat. "I don’t like you not being on primary comms. The delay could cost you." He looks at her once more, "I also wish you’d wear some armor."

She sighs, heavy and strained. "If someone sees me from the corner of their eye I need to look like I belong. One of your radios and a flak jacket will ruin the mirage."

"Ain’t no one mistaking you for a narco Wildcat," Frankie points out and Santi gives him an approving look before looking back at her.

"Yes. Exactly," Santi agrees vehemently.

She kicks her bag under the nearby table and then stands up to her full height, hands on her hips. "Look. You hired me to do this because I’m _really fucking good at my job_. So back off and accept I know more than you about how to do this." She holds up the keyset she lifted just fifteen minutes ago, "Unless one of _you_ wants to gather the intel from an active safe house? No? Then I’ll say it again. _Let me do my fucking job_."

A quick dip of his chin is all he gives her and she doesn’t say anything in return. Instead she checks her watch, leaning to look out a crack in the papers covering the window. "How long we got?"

"Hour, give or take." Ben replies, sitting and leaning a chair back against the wall.

Santi pulls his 9mm out of its holster. Checks the magazine, checks there isn’t one chambered, and then hands it and the holster to Wildcat. "You’re going in there with more than a knife on you. And you can’t tell me a gun will be out of place. It will look odd if you _don’t_ have one."

She wrinkles her nose but nods, repeating his motions and checking the safety before hooking the holster onto the back of her pants.

"Might as well have kept the bullets Pope," Ben says with a smirk.

"You can fuck off," Wildcat mutters, looking out the window.

Pope raises an eyebrow. "What’s this?"

"Wildcat can’t shoot for shit," Ben laughs.

"Really?" This from Frankie who had finally stopped blushing every time he looked at her.

Wildcat grunts, turning away from the window and back to them. "I have a different skillset."

"How bad?" Will asks.

She shuts her eyes for a moment before shrugging. "Bad."

"Hey didn’t you wash out of SEAL training 'cause of it?" Ben asks.

She spins on him, " _Why_ are you asking questions you already know the answer to?"

"How did you even make it out of basic?" Ben continues to needle.

A _thunk_ echoes in the room and Ben turns his head slowly, his cheek grazing the knife that had appeared in the wall next to him. Frankie gives a low whistle and even Will gives her a more appraising look. Santi hadn’t even seen her move.

"I _said_ I have a different skillset," she grits out before walking over and pulling the knife out. Santi is watching but as soon as it comes out of the wall it just… disappears. Somewhere.

"Enough," Santi snaps and everyone stands up a little straighter. "It’s time to get into place." No one needs a reminder, the moment the words are out everyone starts moving. Wildcat takes the phone out of his hand, turning the screen on and showing him the earbud controls before turning everything on and tucking the phone into his vest.

"Be careful," he tells her and sees her brows draw down but she nods and slips out the back door.

Santi grabs their gear and heads up to the empty apartment. The narcos knew his face which meant he was stuck running ops. From the apartment above he had a good view of the street out the window and Will and Frankie would be placing cameras. Ben would be on the corner, doing a much better job of pretending to read the paper than Frankie had. Will would be with Wildcat, ready to boost her up and then move to the extraction point. Frankie was on getaway car.

- _Pope Pope, Ironhead._ -

Santi reaches down to his radio. - _Ironhead go_.-

- _Wildcat is up, moving to secondary._ -

- _Copy that Ironhead_.-

"I see my babysitter has already contacted you." The voice purrs inside his head and Santi shifts his weight on his feet, looking down at the building across the street. He can’t see her, knows he can’t. Until Will got his camera setup he wouldn’t be able to see her.

"Shouldn’t you be keeping quiet right now?" he asks, scanning the street for signs of her anyway.

A low laugh, "I’m twenty feet off the ground. And I’m whispering. _I_ can barely hear me _."_

"Well, you shouldn’t be distracting me," he says.

"From what? We’ve got at least fifteen minutes to kill." A pause and he can almost hear her brain working. "I can think of some fun ways to spend fifteen minutes."

He groans, "No. Absolutely not."

"Aw, Pope, why so serious? Don’t you ever have fun on these jobs?"

"No," he says again, even more firmly.

"That’s too bad," he hears a low hum and can feel it travel through his body, curling his toes. "I guess I’ll just have to entertain myself."

"Do _not_ ," he warns but she just laughs, low and dark. "I’ll turn your channel off," the note of caution in his voice should be enough to scare anybody.

"No you won’t. You won’t risk something happening to me while you’ve got me muted." Fuck she was right. Had called his bluff. "Which means that you, sexy man, are at my mercy."

Santi leans his head against the windowpane for a second, careful not to disturb the curtain he was peering around. "Didn’t you get enough of me last night?"

"Oh no," she is definitely purring now. Her voice low and sensual. "I don’t think I did. In fact, I think tonight you should let _me_ tie _you_ up."

"Not a chance," he says, shifting to look at the three camera feeds, of which only two are up. As he watches, the feed from Will’s camera comes through and now he can see her. Tiny on his screen and squeezed into a corner where two buildings meet, near a window. He tilts his head, trying to figure out the logistics of what she’s doing. She got one foot wedged into a crack, the other on maybe a half inch of exposed brick, her hands pressed out to each side. Her legs at an angle he’s never seen from a human before. Just looking at her makes his knees hurt.

"I didn’t know you were that flexible," he comments and sees her lift her head, eyes scanning until she spots the camera Will set up across from her. The camera is too far away to see her expression but he can somehow tell that she grins at him.

"Oh honey, this isn’t even half of it."

He groans and then tries to stifle it when he hears her low chuckle. Damn these earbuds are sensitive. He’s not used to them. Not used to having instant communication with the team like this. It’s nice, or at least would be if she weren’t using them for evil.

"You know I still have marks on my wrists from last night."

He did in fact know that. He had forgotten to untie her for far too long, until his belt had chafed her skin and she’d actually had to ask. He also knew better. He’d played these games before and generally wasn’t so careless. There was just something about her that made him want to push. Push things just a little further than was safe.

"I’ve also got a scratch on the inside of my thigh. I think it’s from your zipper."

He bites back the groan this time, clenching his fist so hard his knuckles hurt.

"I’m sad I didn’t get to see you. You have a beautiful cock, don’t get me wrong, but I’d’ve liked to have seen the rest of you."

The cock in question was already half hard. Santi grits his teeth.

"I mean, I barely even got to touch you. That’s really a shame. It is. I like touching. And tasting. Running my fingers and tongue over someone’s skin."

Why was she doing this? He’s watching the cameras, he really is, but he keeps coming back to her. The way her body is twisted against the building. She can’t move. Not really. But she doesn’t seem like she needs to. As uncomfortable as it looks to him, her voice in his head doesn’t seem at all fazed.

"I really enjoyed sucking your cock you know. I would do that again for you, anytime you’d like."

"Fuck," he breathes and he hears a low hum from her.

"Maybe you’ll be nicer next time. Let me take my time. Go slow. Draw it out for you. Suck on you til my lips go numb."

"Cat," his voice has an edge to it.

"Are you touching yourself Pope?"

He grunts, shifting in his chair. "No."

"Do you want to be?"

He doesn’t reply. Lets the silence stretch between them before he hears her sigh. "I wish I could touch myself right now. I’ve gotten myself all wet thinking about you." Another sigh, as heartfelt as the last. "Or even better, I wish you were here touching me."

He can imagine it easily. The way her legs are spread and the angle of the camera mean that he’s looking right into the V of her thighs. Hell, if she weren’t wearing pants he could probably see inside of her in this position. But she is, and he can’t, just sees the tight stretch of denim. His brain is more than happy to fill in the rest.

- _Pope Pope, Catfish._ -

Santi groans, shifting his attention to his radio. - _Catfish go.-_

_-I’ve got eyes on the delivery truck.-_

_-Copy that.-_ The next bit is as much for Wildcat’s benefit as his own. _-Eyes on the delivery truck. Allcom sound off.-_

 _-Catfish go_.-

- _Ironhead go_.-

- _Benny go._ -

"Wildcat go," a whisper in his ear.

"What do you hear Wildcat?" An old litany. One he’d said a thousand times before.

This time he doesn’t imagine her twist towards the camera, the grin she gives him. "Nothing but the rain Pope." Then she’s twisting against the building, a small jump and her hands catch the lip of a window just above her.

"Drop zone is clear," he tells her, watching the cameras. He can see her body sway, she’s holding herself by eight fingers and a single toe-hold. The delivery truck pulls up and he waits just a second longer before speaking one word.

- _Go_.-


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6: The op goes as well as anyone could expect. Will and Wildcat find themselves in a compromising position.  
> (Will Miller x [not really] Reader)
> 
> Word count: 1400. 
> 
> Rating: R explicit language.

Will was ready to punch someone.

But to do that they would have to stop running and that was a _really_ bad fucking idea.

It had all been going great. He’d heard the 'Go'. Moved himself to the extraction point. Wildcat had calculated a low probability she’d be coming in hot but it wasn’t zero and he was prepared to cover her if need be. But she’d appeared at the second floor window with barely a whisper of noise. Dropping to the ground in front of him with a quiet _thunk_.

"Any problems?"

She shakes her head with a grin. "Easy like Sunday morning."

- _Catfish, You’re a go._ -

Will tilts his head and glances up the street. Santi had eyes on them but there was no way he could know Wildcat had the package. She smiles at him and taps just below her ear. Oh yeah, she had her own comm line.

- _Uh, guys. I’ve got a problem_.-

Will freezes, hand on Wildcat’s arm. She raises an eyebrow but he motions at his headset. He reaches under his jacket, checking his side piece, listening on the comms to Santi and Frankie.

- _Catfish, what’s your twenty?_ -

- _I’ve, uh… fuck.-_ Will can hear someone yelling in the background of Frankie’s call.

_-Catfish talk to me.-_

_-I’m either gonna have to run this guy over or I’m out. Fuck.-_

A pause from Santi and Will would bet everything he has the man is cursing up a storm in his little nest across the street. Finally his voice cracks across the radio. - _Do not engage. Ironhead do you copy that traffic?-_

Will looks at Wildcat. She’s tense at his side, eyes on his face. - _I copy the traffic Pope. Proceeding to Foxtrot Echo._ -

"Fuck," she mutters and he snorts.

"Yeah."

"No," she motions with her chin. Their first mark, the one she had lifted the keys from, was coming back early.

"Pope you seeing this?" she asks the air.

He can’t hear the reply but she turns suddenly, looking back up at the house. He hesitates before looking, but the sound of shouting forces him to raise his eyes to the window. There’s someone hanging out of it, shouting down at them.

"We need to _move_ ," he urges, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the street. She jerks away from him.

"No, this way," she motions him toward the front of the house.

"That’s right the fuck into the middle of-"

She holds up the keys, "I have to get these back on him. Now come _on_."

He tails her as she darts down the street. Not quite running. He can hear people shouting behind them. They are heading right for four men, all of them armed, stretched across the entire walkway.

"You ready?" She asks.

"No."

He thinks he hears her laugh and then she does run, shoulder checking their mark before taking off full tilt - very obviously holding the man’s Rolex. Will is right behind her, grabbing the man by the shoulder and spinning him into his guards.

More shouting. From the house and the guards. He can hear Santi on the radio but he doesn’t have time to respond.

- _What the FUCK are you two doing?-_

"Staying alive," he hears Wildcat call before she flinches, hand going to her ear. "Fuck, I’m out of range."

A bullet pings off the building next to him and he shouts at Wildcat and she turns immediately. He follows her into the narrow alley.

"Is this better?" He asks incredulously. He can see the alley dead ending ahead of them but just before it she skids to a stop and jumps, hooking her hand over the wall and pulling herself up until she has her knee hooked, then reaching a hand down to him. He takes it without thinking, using the leverage to pull himself up. Another shot just under his foot. Another and he sees a puff of dust next to her head.

"Go," he shouts as soon as he’s up but she’s already moving, tossing the watch to the side as she goes.

The alley opens up ahead of them, branching out in several directions. He clocks each one, trying to figure out which one is their best bet. She makes the decision for them, pulling him to the left and then inside a small storage shed.

"Shirt, off."

He freezes for a moment but she’s already got her shirt and bra off, jerking her feet out of her shoes and dropping her hands to her belt.

" _Shirt_ ," she says it with more force this time and he complies, pulling it over his head. She’s got the beanie off, combing fingers through her hair. She’s naked and he’s only just cluing in to what’s going on. He can hear the narcos outside and kicks their clothes and guns into a pile, dropping his shirt over it. She points at a table and he hops up, pulling her next to him. She’s got his pants undone, pushes them down and she straddles his hips just as the door flies open.

She’s straddled him backwards, his cock pressed up between her thighs. He can’t see the men in the doorway but can imagine their view. He thrusts up, knowing that he’s making her breasts bounce. There is no man on earth who would willingly take his eyes off that sight.

"A menos que tengas dinero cierra la _fucking_ puerta." Not for the first time Will wish he spoke better Spanish. Something about money and the door? Whatever she says it makes the men shout.

"Cierra la boca puta." Puta was bitch. Or whore maybe? Whichever it is it’s not said nicely. He groans loudly, pushing up against her harder.

Fuck she’s wet. Had been the moment his cock touched her. Did she get off on this shit? On being chased? Whatever the reason his body was responding to hers whether he wanted it to or not. She’s got a nice ass, he notes in as detached a way as he can.

The narcos say one last thing, and then the door shuts. He stops moving immediately and they wait for the footsteps to recede before she turns to look at him over her shoulder. Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the door flying open again and he immediately rocks his hips up again - hearing her over the top moan in response.

"What the fuck?"

 _Shit_.

"Hey Pope," she says, swinging her leg off of him. Will sits up, reaching down to cover his erection with his hands, pulling his underwear up quickly.

"Hey Pope," he says as casually as possible. Where is his fucking shirt?

"Care to explain?" Will has never heard Santi’s voice sound so hard. Next to him, he sees Wildcat roll her eyes, pulling on her pants. She doesn’t seem bothered by her nudity. Honestly, he didn’t really expect her to be.

"We were, uh, hiding out," Will offers, zipping his pants and scanning the floor for his shirt.

"Looks like you were playing hide the sausage."

"Oh for fuck’s sake Pope," Wildcat snaps, pulling her bra on and shimmying her breasts into place. At least, that’s what it looks like she’s doing. Will clocks the look in Santi’s eyes.

 _Ah shit_. That is not the look of a Commander pissed at his team. That’s the look of a man pissed at a woman. And a man. Namely him.

Will holds his hands up. "Seriously man, it was just a tactic. A distraction."

"Don’t bother," Wildcat says, leaning against the table to pull on her boots. "He’s got something up his ass and he’s not going to be happy until he’s yelled at one of us."

"Know me so well do you?" Santi asks her.

"Oh, hey, what’s up guys?"

Of course Benny would show up right now. Of course he would. Finally finding his shirt Will yanks it over his head and scoops his jacket and sidearm off the floor. "Not a fucking word," he says to his brother, pointing for good measure.

"I wasn’t gonna-" Benny starts but a snort from Wildcat stops him. "Ok, maybe I was gonna."

"I’ve got the recon," Wildcat interjects casually.

"Not that it does us any fucking good," Santi snarls. "You were made. Word will get back to Lorea. Your recon is useless."

Will winces. But Wildcat is still smiling. "They don’t know what I went in for."

"What else _could_ you have been there for?" Santi snaps.

Wildcat shrugs and digs a hand into her pocket, pulling out a handful of sparkly, clear stones. "Oh, I don’t know. About fifty grand in diamonds?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7: Pope and Wildcat are both pissed off at each other. There are probably better ways to deal with that than they choose.  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Word count: 2600. 
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Hella Explicit) violence. fighting kink. probably BDSM to be honest. bondage again. use of safe words. PiV sex.

"What do you mean we can’t sell them?"

Santi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They were crowded into Ben’s room again, computer open on the bed by his hip with the plans they had stolen. Frankie was nursing a black eye and refusing to talk to anyone about what happened. Thus far, Santi has been too pissed off to push.

"Don’t be a dumbass Benny," Wildcat’s voice. He studiously avoids looking at her. "Do you know how much diamonds are actually worth?"

"When I was looking at rings for my last girl I know they cost a shitload," Ben bites back. "And you even said that was fifty kay worth."

"To the right buyer, yeah. Do you happen to have an in on the diamond market?" Ben doesn’t answer and she goes on. "Ironhead? Fish? Po- No one? Then yeah, these are basically worthless for cash." She picks a few up and he can see her hand move in the corner of his vision. "The only person I know of _might_ offer about ten grand for the bunch. If we’re lucky." She sighs and lets them fall back to the bed in a shower of sparkles. "We’re better off dividing them up and y’all making jewelry for your moms. Wives. Whatever."

He glances her way at that but she’s as studiously avoiding looking at him as he is at her.

"Fuck," Ben mutters.

"That’s not the problem," Santi breaks in to the conversation. "The _problem_ is that was a shitshow back there. What the fuck happened. Fish?"

Frankie looks up and lowers the icepack from his eye. "Some pendejo wanted to start a fight with me. Caught me right as we were wrapping up. I had a crowd, couldn’t get away."

"Why the fuck was someone starting a fight with you?" This from Will, another person Santi had been avoiding looking at.

Frankie hesitates then raises the icepack up again. "I don’t fucking know man. Didn’t like my face?"

"And you two?" Santi turns his gaze on Will who meets his eyes from beneath lowered brows. "What happened to the revised extraction? You fucking went off-book."

Will points at Wildcat and Santi can hear her sigh before she says, "There were two pain points. One I saw in the house, the other on the street. I improvised."

"You improvised?" He turns on her now.

"Yeah, I improvised." She crosses her arms and doesn’t break eye contact with him. "Your intel on the house was off, there was no way I was getting into the safe room and out without someone knowing so I left a trail. Took some stones. They needed a reason and I gave them one."

"And that stunt on the street?" he keeps his voice level. Calm.

"If the mark realized he didn’t have his keys it would have _also_ blown it. So I put them back when I snatched his watch."

He narrows his eyes, thinking. Then he nods. "I don’t like it. It’s too messy. But we’ll have to wait and see if it worked." She nods back and the tension in the room seems to go down a notch. "Now about after…"

"Whoa," Will raises a hand up, pushing off from the wall with the other. "Look, we got away. We didn’t get shot. And we got the data. I think we can call that a win and be done for tonight. I’m getting a beer. Ben?"

Ben shoots a glance among them and then nods following Will from the room, Frankie follows close behind. Wildcat tails them and then raises a questioning eyebrow back at him.

Santi shuts the computer, coming to his feet. "You," he points at her, "with me."

He’s halfway down the hall before it occurs to him that maybe his hotel room isn’t the best place for this conversation. But he’s too keyed up to think of another, his anger roiling just below the surface.

"Are you going to talk to me?" She asks from over his shoulder and he doesn’t turn around, just lets his long stride eat up the ground to his door.

"I’ll talk to you in fucking private."

"You’re pissed at me?" She sounds incredulous. "I don’t believe this. You’re _pissed_ at me."

"You’re goddamn right I am," he turns on her, sees her take a step back. "You planning on just fucking your way through my team? Benny’s the only one left, but then again you already _know_ each other don’t you?"

If he’d been even the tiniest bit less mad he’d have seen it coming. That’s what he tells himself anyway. He would have seen her move before she was on him, digging her fingers into the pressure point under his arm and forcing him back against the wall with her other hand digging into his carotid artery.

"Listen to me you son of a bitch," she bites every word off, fingers pushing upwards until he’s on tiptoe to get away from it. "For the last time, I never fucked Frankie. And I didn’t fuck Will. And I don’t really have any interest in fucking Benny to be honest. But if I wanted to you’d have no right to stop me. Or to be a _fucking_ ass about it."

She releases him and steps back in one motion, brushing her hair away from her face. She’s pissed. He can tell that much. Her chest heaving, her jaw tense. Her nostrils are flared and he’d bet fifty grand in diamonds that her heartbeat was well over a hundred beats per minute. He doesn’t even think. Just reaches out and grabs her by the shirtfront, searching behind him for the door handle with his other hand. Hauling her to him until their mouths clash together and he pulls her back into his room, kicking the door shut.

Her nails rake down his neck and he flinches, pulling away from her and grabbing her hand with one of his. Holding her wrist in a too-tight grip. Her arm flexes, curves, and then she’s digging her fingers into the muscles of his bicep and he grimaces at the pain but refuses to move where she pushes. He takes her by the throat instead, pushing her to the wall and kissing her again. Feels her tongue move against his. The soft choke of her breath when he presses her windpipe. She doesn’t release his muscle, just skims her other hand into his hair and pulls _hard_. The full body shiver that induces nearly makes his knees give out.

It’s the work of a moment to kick her feet apart, to shove his knee between her thighs. She bites at him and he groans at the sharp sting of it. The hand on his bicep moves up to his shoulder and she hoists herself upwards, wrapping her legs around his waist. He drops one hand under her ass to hold her steady, keeping the other pressed to her throat.

"You don’t want Frankie to fuck you," he growls into her mouth. "And you don’t want Will to fuck you, or Benny." His teeth catch her lower lip and he pulls, feeling the flesh stretch and slide before releasing. He presses harder to her neck, "Just who _do_ you want to fuck you?"

It was his fault, really, for thinking he was in control. For thinking that there was any part of this where he had the upper hand. She reaches up and grips his forearm, using it for leverage as she twists her body and the next thing he knows she’s upside down with her thighs around his head and he’s flipping forward into the air. He lands on his back with a heavy _thud_ , air rushing out of him in a whoosh. He’d have been worried about head trauma but she still has her thighs wrapped tight around him and he’s not sure he’s getting enough oxygen to worry about a concussion. He wrenches a hand between his neck and her thigh, giving himself a gasp of air before she tightens her hold and he sees stars.

"You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that Pope?" she’s growling, holding one of his hands above his head and bending it an angle he’s not particularly fond of. "I offer myself to you on a fucking silver platter and this is what I get? Petty jealousy? Some big _man_ feelings? Grow the fuck up." She pulls on his arm again and Santi is done.

She’s not in it to kill him, he’s counting on that. So when he flips his legs up and over he relies on the fact that she’ll release his head rather than risk breaking his neck. Thankfully he’s right and she does. His knee lands on her chest, knocking the air out of her. He feels a little bad about it but the quick kidney punch she gives him drives any apology straight out of his head. She wraps one arm around his thigh but he’s faster - has the advantage of knowing what he’s going to do in advance and he shifts his weight to his other knee and flips her over.

Now he’s got a knee on the center of her back, jerking her arms behind her and holding them up by her shoulder blades. It is not a comfortable position, he can see her trying to bow her back to relieve the pressure on her arms, but he presses more of his weight down.

"Now listen to me kitten-" His words are cut off and his vision goes white for a second. She fucking kicked him in the back of the head. How the _hell_ had she done that? How fucking flexible was this woman? He ducks to the side just in time, her boots closing uselessly on the air where his neck had been. He shifts to the side, one knee still on her back, the other on her wrists. Where he can keep an eye on her legs. He puts his full weight on her, only letting up when he can hear her straining to breathe.

"Now," he runs one hand through his hair, catching his breath, "let’s talk about this silver platter."

"Fuck you," she wheezes.

"I am really hoping for that, yes," he replies good-naturedly, staring down at her body. He glances around the room. His flexi-cuffs are on the other side of the bed with the rest of his gear. Belt it is again then.

It’s a lot harder when she’s not cooperating, nor does it help that the belt doesn’t want to stay taut. He holds it with one hand as he moves off of her, using his grip to steady her and supporting under her elbow with the other. He brings her to her knees first, then raises her to her feet. "Alright kitten," he starts but she turns on him. Reflexively his hand tightens on the belt and he can see the flash of pain cross her face as her shoulders are pulled. But then she fucking _head-butts_ him and all bets are off.

He kicks one of her feet out from under her, tossing her to the bed when she loses her balance and following her down, knee once again pressed to her back. He jerks at her pants with his free hand, yanking them and her underwear down to her knees, then past them to pool around her ankles. Reaching between her thighs he groans at how slick and wet she is, pushing two fingers roughly inside her.

"Do you remember my name?" It’s the only check-in he’s going to give her. He presses his fingers up inside her. Feels her clench, her body shudder. "What’s my name?"

"Santiago," she groans and he pulls her up to her knees.

"Anything else?"

"Just. _Fucking._ Santiago."

It’s enough. He holds his belt in one hand, twisting the leather so it’s tight on her wrists and releasing his cock with his other hand. A condom from his pocket which he awkwardly puts on and then he pushes himself inside her and doesn’t stop until his hips are pressed to her ass. He doesn’t give her time to think, time to get used to him. Just pulls out and thrusts back into her. Setting a brutal pace that makes his toes curl.

But it must be doing something for her because she’s crying out, face twisted somewhere between pain and pleasure. She’s trying to adjust her position and he leans forward, over her back, capturing her bound hands between their bodies. Now he can press one fist to the comforter by her face, slide his other around her body and search through her slick folds until he finds her clit. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stroke it gently. Just pinches it and rolls it between two fingers and she fucking comes _instantly_.

He can barely keep fucking her through it. Her body is so tight as she fights for her own pleasure. He can feel the roaring in his ears, the way his balls draw up and then he’s cursing, pulling out and jerking the condom off so he can come on her. Watch it pool against the exposed skin of her lower back, the pattern of it against her shirt, the sticky ropes that go all the way down to drip off her fingertips. He’s shaking, cock in his hand, still leaning over her, trying to catch his breath. He can see a bead of sweat drop from his brow to her shoulder.

She shudders and he sees the flash of pain on her face. The twist of her shoulder and he curses, reaching for the belt on her wrists and releasing it, massaging her arms as she slowly lowers them down to the bed. She gathers them under her, using them for leverage to hoist her body forward until she’s flat on her stomach. Her pants are still around her ankles, her shirt rucked up and his cum slowly drying on her skin and fuck if it’s not the sexiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

He twists off the bed, staggering a little as his legs fight to support him. He’s getting fucking _old_. He drags himself into the bathroom, taking care of the condom and washing his hands before wetting a washcloth. He catches sight of himself in the mirror - can see a bruise forming on his chin from where she head-butted him. Well, that will be a fun story to tell tomorrow.

He walks back out and has to bite back a smile. She hasn’t moved so much as an inch. Doesn’t even when the bed dips down and he slowly wipes his cum off her ass, reaching up under her shirt to wipe her down and then gently pulling her arms from under her one by one to clean each finger meticulously.

"Are we ever going to figure out how to fuck like normal people?" The words are more rhetorical than anything and he doesn’t really expect her to answer.

She does anyway of course, mumbling into the pillow, "Seems overrated."

He laughs, tossing the washcloth into a corner. "Pants on or off?"

"Am I staying?"

He doesn’t hesitate. "Yes. Pants on or off?"

"Off."

He pulls her boots off, then her pants, sliding her panties back up at her direction. He loans her one of his shirts and she manages to sit up long enough to trade her cum-stained one for his. He strips down to his briefs and slides under the sheets, holding them up with one arm out, beckoning her into his embrace. He can see her reticence but he just cocks and eyebrow and she rolls her eyes as she slides in next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You’re lucky I wasn’t willing to break your neck," she mumbles.

He chuckles, stroking one hand down her arm. Her pillow talk needed some work but he could help with that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8: An answer to Santi’s question “Are we ever going to fuck like normal people?”  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Word count: 2400.
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) oral (f receiving). PiV sex. This is pretty fluffy y’all.

Santi is pleasantly surprised to wake up and find that Wildcat is still in his bed. They’d turned at some point, laying face to face now with one of her legs between his. It’s still night, not even a hint of sunrise which means he had at least an hour, if not more, before they needed to be moving for the day.

Dim light seeps in from the street outside, curling around the curtains to cast soft lights across her face. Falling across the curve of her cheek, the arch of her eyebrow, the plump bow of her lips. In this light, in this stillness, he finally has time to notice that she’s not, in fact, a knockout. Not that she’s not pretty - but if he had seen her face in a photo array he probably wouldn’t have looked twice.

No, her beauty came from how she carried herself. Her confidence. The sparkle in her eyes which are slowly blinking open and meeting his. And her smile, which she gifts him with as she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

"What time is it?"

"Too early to be thinking about the time," he tells her, soothing a hand across her hip. "Go back to sleep."

"I was trying to," she pouts and he has the urge to pull that luscious lip into his mouth, "but _someone_ kept petting me and waking me up."

"Oh," he stills his hand, "sorry."

"Don’t be," she says, bringing her hand up to cup his jaw. He can hear the slide of his stubble across her skin. "Your lip is busted," she whispers, moving her hand to ghost a finger across it.

" _Someone_ hit me," he replies and sees her smile. He turns to kiss her palm. "You gonna kiss it and make it better?"

She smiles and leans forward, just barely capturing his lower lip in a soft caress before moving away. "Anywhere else?"

"Well, you got my chin pretty good," he points out, tilting his head to show her.

"Oh, pobrecito," she murmurs and then he feels the soft touch of her lips there. "Where else?"

"If I said down lower would you believe me?" he asks hopefully.

The low, amused chuckle vibrates into his body and he dips his head to capture her laugh in his mouth, softly stroking his lips along hers before gently probing with his tongue. She parts for it, sliding her own tongue against him and pressing her lips back to his. He glides his hand up and down her back, grinning when he feels her shiver.

"Are you ticklish?"

"Don’t even think about it," she warns and he presses his mouth to hers again, this time firmer. Ignoring the sting of pain in his lip. She moans softly and shifts against his legs. Then lets out a distressed mewl when he rolls away from her to pick up his watch on the bedside table. He checks it and then drops it, rolling back and pulling her tighter to him.

"Well?" she asks. "How much time do we have?"

"It’s three-thirty," he tells her, nuzzling his nose into the curve of her jaw, "plenty of time for me to have my wicked way with you."

He can feel her nails on his back, slowly raking along his spine and he shudders. "Could we perhaps try something _less_ wicked?"

Pulling back, he studies her face. "What do you mean?"

"I have enjoyed the _hell_ out of what we’ve been doing Santi," she reassures him, "but it’s also three o’clock in the goddamn morning and I don’t think I’m up for any calisthenics."

He laughs, pressing his forehead to hers. "Oh thank God. Neither am I."

Her relieved breath ghosts over his cheek, her lips following it. "So maybe something a bit lazier?"

"As the lady wishes," he tells her then pulls the sheet up into the air, letting it flutter down around them as he leans over and covers her body with his. He kisses her then, softly. Letting his lips learn the shape of her, the soft sighs and moans as he runs his tongue along her lower lip. Her hands sink into his hair and he leans into it, loving the feel of her fingers tugging at the curls. He shifts slightly, using one elbow to prop himself up over her, freeing his other hand to slide up her stomach and cup her breast beneath the shirt.

He groans at the soft weight of her. How had he spent two nights with this woman and not managed to do this? Just touch her, stroke her body, listen to the little noises of pleasure she makes. She is a veritable symphony, each little sound curling inside him and making his heart beat faster. It’s the work of a moment to pull the shirt over her head, toss it across the room, and then he can see all that soft skin he had been touching. He trails his fingers across her, feels her tremble beneath his touch. He reluctantly moves from her mouth, pressing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone. Then down further until his lips meet the pebbled skin of her nipple and he gently pulls it into his mouth.

Oh, if he had thought she was symphony before now she’s added _lyrics_. He can hear his name in the jumble of words, at least one curse. He releases her nipple from his mouth, curls his tongue around it for a moment, and then gently blows across her. Her back arches off the bed and he grins, rubbing his lips to the soft underside of her breast.

"You’re so sensitive," he groans and he can feel her hands move from his hair, one cupping his neck and the other moving to curl around his upper arm. He pulls her nipple into his mouth again, gently setting his teeth against it and pinching her other nipple with his hand. Just to hear the noise she’ll make.

It can only be described as a scream. Sharp and high and ending in a strangled groan. He groans in return, tilting his head to look up at her, the arch of her neck. The way she is biting her lip. Her fingers dig into his skin and he shifts to lave attention on her other breast, stroking his free hand down her body to run along her thigh. Her legs part immediately and he chuckles, running the backs of his fingers up the inside.

"Oh kitten, you’re soaked for me," he growls, slipping his fingers along the soaked fabric of her panties.

He shifts his weight, slowly pulling the fabric down her legs, pressing kisses across her ribcage, down her stomach, before settling his shoulders between her thighs. A kiss on the soft skin right at the heart of her, then a soft lick.

"Santi," she moans and one of her hands slips into his hair, the other twisting in the bedsheets.

"I was right, you taste delicious," he murmurs into her before using his fingers to part her and pressing his open mouth to her soft wet center. He uses one arm to hold her down, throwing it over her thigh and then seeking out her hand and curling his fingers with hers. He wasn’t lying to her, she tasted amazing. His tongue curls into her, savoring it, his nose nudging against the bundle of nerves above her entrance.

She sounds like she’s been running a mile, her chest heaving and her breath coming in short pants. He shifts his mouth, moving upwards and thrusting two fingers inside of her while he presses his lips to her clit. She’s saying his name again, his name and the Lord’s in equal measure, and the sound of it makes his heart swell. He begins to tongue her, licking rhythmically against her clit and curling his fingers inside of her.

He can feel the muscles of her thigh bunching under his arm, her hand clenching his, the way she tugs on his hair. When her hips begin to lift he holds her down more firmly, pressing his fingers a little deeper.

"Santiago-" she gasps but whatever she was going to say is overridden by a loud cry.

He lifts his head, twisting his hand so he can rub his thumb across her. "Don’t you dare hold back," he warns, waiting until her eyes open and she meets his gaze. "I want to hear every bit of it." He waits for her nod, her lips parted in what looks like shock, and then he ducks his head back down and flicks her with his tongue.

She screams when she comes - long and loud. Even with her thighs pressed to his ears he can hear how loud it is. Her nails dig into his scalp and he groans but doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue and his fingers until he can hear her begging him, telling him she can’t take it. But her muscles are clenching around him and he doesn’t even pause before sending her over the edge again.

The sounds she makes this time sound more like sobs. Her hand pulling at his hair so sharply he has no choice but to move away or risk losing the hair altogether. She’s babbling, tugging at his shoulder and he moves upwards, pressing the heel of his hand hard against her clit before capturing her lips with his own.

"Santi, fuck me, please, Santi," her nails scratch his shoulders and he jerks away, searching with one hand for a condom. He has his underwear off and the condom on before she can regain coherent thought, sliding over her and guiding himself inside of her.

"Oh fuck kitten," he hangs his head, struggling to take in air, "fuck you feel good." He shifts slightly, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist and he can feel himself settle fully inside of her, their hips pressed together. He doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to lose the heat of her, the tight squeeze of her against his cock.

Her fingers gently caress his face and he opens his eyes to look at her. She still looks lost, her eyes wide, pupils blown, lips parted. It takes the barest pressure of her fingertips for her to guide his mouth down to hers. To suck his tongue into her mouth and then she moans and her muscles clench around him and he sees stars.

His arms are under her back, his hands holding her shoulders. He knows he must be crushing her, that he should do something to relieve the full weight of his body pressing down on hers but she is making soft noises into his mouth and her hips are rolling up to his and all he can think of is fucking her until he can’t think about anything anymore.

So he does. Clutches her to him, buries his mouth against her neck, and rocking his cock inside of her until the world is nothing but pinpoints of sound and light.

"Are you…" he grunts out, unable to finish the sentence.

"This one is all yours baby," she whispers back and he groans, quickening the pace of his hips. She licks at the shell of his ear, whispering to him. His brain can’t process what she’s saying but it doesn’t matter because the urgent murmurs and the feel of her hot breath are enough to send his body rocketing into an orgasm that shakes the very foundation of his being.

He doesn’t stop. Even when the pleasure begins to recede and he slowly comes back into his body and he can feel that he’s still moving inside of her. Long slow strokes that she meets with lazy rolls of her hips. He pushes himself up, looking down at her with what must be a dazed expression but the smile she gives him is dazzling. He wants to taste it and there’s nothing stopping him from swooping down and doing so, pressing his lips to hers as his hips slowly stop.

He wants nothing more than to stay exactly where he is for the rest of the night, but circumstances force him from the bed and into the bathroom. When he comes back she is stretched out on her side, one arm curled under her head, watching for him. He grins, leaning against the wall, just enjoying looking at her.

"Come back to bed so I can do all of that to you," she says, beckoning him with her other hand.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "There’s no way, kitten. I don’t have another round in me."

She smiles and continues to hold out her hand. "Then come back here so I can touch you anyway. Just for me. No funny business, I promise."

He goes to her willingly, pressing a kiss to her as he feels her arms close around him, her hands stroking his back. He moans as her nails scratch against his skin and he can feel her smile against his lips.

"You are putty in my hands Pope," she whispers and he wants to say something snarky back but one of her hands is ruffling into the hair on the nape of his neck, the other scratching across his ass and frankly she can say whatever she wants to him as long she doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t realize he says it out loud until he hears her giggle. But she continues to lazily run her nails along him. His back. His scalp. His hips. His arms. Even his thigh which he helpfully hitches over her hip when she drifts that direction.

He couldn’t have said when he fell back to sleep. All that he knows is that he wakes up alone.

"Good night?" Will asks with a sour look when Santi sits down at breakfast the next morning.

Santi raises an eyebrow, pouring himself a cup of coffee then blowing across it. "It was fine."

Will rolls his eyes. "We share a wall jackass."

Santi freezes and then can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. "Oh? Did something wake you up?"

"The screaming? The thumping? Damn right something woke me up," Will grouses.

"What screaming?" Wildcat asks with a perky smile, dropping into a chair next to Will.

Santi winks at her, feeling his heart thud when she winks back. "Will was just reminding me that his room is next to mine."

"Oh?" She asks and then she freezes, eyes going wide, " _Oh._ " Then she’s grinning too. "Did you tug one out listening to us? It’s okay if you did. I wouldn’t blame you."

Santi snorts coffee out of his nose.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9: Frankie and Wildcat have a heart to heart on a recon.  
> (Frankie Morales)
> 
> Word count: 1500.
> 
> Rating: R (mature) language. talking about sex

Frankie listens to the casual bickering between Ben and Wildcat with half an ear, staring out at the lush greenery sweeping past the windows as they drive. His face hurt, and he can see in his reflection that the shiner from yesterday had deepened into a brilliant purple. He touches the skin gingerly, cursing quietly to himself at the tenderness of the area.

When they finally reach their entry point Frankie is grateful to be out of the car. Getting out and stretching his legs, his hands up to the sky. He grabs his vest from the back seat and buckles it on as he listens to Santi go over the plan for at least the fourth time that day.

"Benny you’ll check out the gate. Ironhead, you’re on perimeter. Frankie and Wildcat you’re scoping the ingress point. Comms up you guys."

"Yes sir," Frankie mumbles sarcastically.

"Yes _sir_ ," he sees Wildcat whisper into Santi’s ear, sees a moment pass over the other man’s face. Sees him swallow.

Huh. Interesting. Not surprising, but interesting.

Frankie waits for Wildcat to catch up and then pushes his way into the jungle, crouching low to avoid disturbing as much as possible.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened to your face?" she asks the question as soon as they are out of earshot of the others and Frankie groans.

"Wasn’t planning on it."

"Oh come on," she cajoles. "I thought we had a connection, you and I."

He stops and raises an eyebrow at her, "Really?"

She grins in return. "I mean, I have worn your hat."

"Fuck this hat," he mumbles, forcing his way through the undergrowth. "Nothing but fucking trouble."

"Oh," she skips up next to him, eyes bright, "you _have_ to tell me now."

He remains tight-lipped but she continues to shoot little comments his way until they reach the top of an embankment near the back of the property. They both drop to their stomachs at the same moment, looking over the edge at the yard below. He listens for a break in the radio chatter and then calls it in. Waits for Santi’s acknowledgement.

"Ok, so you said yesterday someone wanted to fight you and popped you in the eye. So what was it? Did he not like your parking job?"

"Fuck off," Frankie mutters, eyeing the fence line as they quietly slide down the embankment and into the stream bed.

"Did he ask you on a date and you said no?"

"What," he turns on her, grabbing her arm to keep her from slipping past.

She grins, "You’re cute, Frankie. No shame in that."

" _No,_ " he bites off and lets her go.

"You _are_ cute," she whispers as she moves past him. "Teresa and I both think so." He must have growled something because she turns back to him. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"No, that was something. Did something happen with…"

Frankie grabs her wrist, jerking her into a patch of ferns under the fence. "She has a _fucking_ _husband_ is what happened."

"Oh shit," Wildcat gasps. "Oh fuck man, I didn’t know."

"Yeah, well, _he_ did. And he wasn’t happy about it."

"Oh _fuck_ ," she sighs, patting his arm. "Sorry I gave you a hard time. She wasn’t a good fit for you, but that still sucks."

Wildcat moves out of the bushes and Frankie follows her down the stream silently, keeping an eye out for ground sensors. Wildcat occasionally pauses and pokes around in the ferns before moving on. After five minutes of silence Frankie finally gives in. "What do you mean she wasn’t a good fit for me?"

"Oh, just that she wasn’t, uh, _bossy_ enough."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Frankie," she turns back to him, eyebrow raised. "You’re what, forty years old, you have to know by now that…" she trails off when she sees his expression and then shrugs. "Never mind. Maybe I’m wrong."

"What the fuck are you going on about," he growls as she moves away from him, poking into the bushes again.

"Just that you like taking orders."

"I’m a fucking Ranger, of course I know how to take orders."

"Yeah, but you _like_ taking orders. It’s different." She jerks at a leaf and then tucks it into the fern next to her. "Have you ever had anyone tie you up? I think you’d like it."

"What the hell? No."

"Ever had some girl pretend to be your drill sergeant?"

Frankie feels a rush of heat down his spine but he bites his next words off anyway. "No. I haven’t. I’m not interested in that shit."

She pauses what she’s doing and spins towards him from her crouched position. "Frankie. If nothing else comes of our time together. If this whole thing ends up being an absolute bust, I want you to take one thing away from this." She reaches out a hand and solemnly lays it on his shoulder, "You would _love_ letting someone else take control of you in the bedroom. Trust me on this."

He gapes at her and she turns back to the underbrush and pushes aside the greenery to show a drainage pipe. "Found it."

Frankie looks at it then at her. "That can’t be more than two feet wide."

"Men," she mutters, reaching down to her radio. "Always over-estimating things. _Pope Pope, Wildcat."_

_-Wildcat go for Pope.-_

She leans her head into the pipe and Frankie can hear a slight echo. _-I’m at the drainage tunnel and it’s, uh, it’s gonna be a tight fit.-_

_-How tight?-_

Wildcat sighs, sitting back on her haunches and tilting her head at the pipe. _-Really fucking tight.-_ "Here hold this," she says to him and the next thing he knows he’s got her flak jacket and she’s tucking the radio into the top of her shirt.

 _-Can you make it?-_ Frankie watches in fascination as she moves into the pipe. Her ass is in the air for a moment and there’s no harm in noting the tight curve of it is there? He watches it flex, can see how slow her movements are as she gets herself into the pipe.- _Wildcat, Pope. I said can you make it?-_

 _-Standby Pope.-_ Frankie calls back, seeing her feet disappear. - _She’s gone in.-_

_-What do you mean she’s fucking gone in?-_

Frankie grins at Pope’s incredulous tone, squatting down to see her progress. She’s a lot further along than he expected. He’s not sure he’d be able to touch her foot without crawling in himself and he there was no fucking way he was going to do that. _-I mean she’s shimmied her ass into the drain pipe and I’m pretty sure she can’t move her arms to get on comms.-_

 _-Lies.-_ Wildcat’s voice comes through in his ear. - _I can, uh, fuck, mmph, yeah this is gonna be tight. Doable, but fuck this is tight.-_

- _Sounds familiar_.-

Frankie freezes. Silence, then Ben’s voice in his ear. - _Did I just fucking hear that right? Did Pope just make a joke during an op?-_

So he hadn’t imagined it. He can hear Wildcat’s laugh as her boots reappear and she slowly slides back out of the pipe.

- _Don’t get used to it_. _-_ Pope’s voice in his headset.

Wildcat runs a hand down her front, grimacing at the slime that comes off, and then reaches out for her flak jacket. "What the fuck did you do to Pope?"

"What do you mean?" She asks as she buckles the vest back on.

"That, that little…" he trails off. "Pope doesn’t do that shit during a mission."

She shrugs and motions with her chin. "I dunno, but I think it’s time we got out of here."

Frankie follows her, waiting until they’re well into the jungle before commenting, "That must be some grade A pussy you’re packing."

She laughs, "I’ve got moves. As you well know."

He grunts and follows beside her. If she could have that effect on Santi… maybe she was right about him.

"So, how does a guy find a… you know… what are they called? A dominatrix."

She laughs so hard she has to stop, bending over and clutching her middle. "Frankie oh my god. Do _not_ go looking for a dom back stateside. Please promise me that won’t be the first thing you do."

"I thought you said," he starts but she cuts him off with a smile and a pat on his cheek.

"You need a girl who will boss you around a little. Give you orders. Tell you exactly what she wants and wants you to do. Removes any decision-making ability from you." She gives him a fond look and then continues back through the jungle. "The word you’re looking for is 'top' _not_ dominatrix."

Frankie mulls her words over as they make their way back. Someone telling him what to do. What they want. Someone to take control of him…

He has to admit, it does sound like a _hell_ of a lot of fun.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10: Wildcat and Pope talk.  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Word count: 2300. 
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) language. oral (m receiving). PiV sex. unprotected sex.

"No. Not just no but _fuck_ no."

Santi sighs. It was late and they’d been having this argument for the better part of the night. The hotel bar had already closed down, the five of them in a corner nursing their last drinks and arguing. Well, somewhat arguing - they were all in agreement, everyone but Wildcat. "We need a sixth man. There’s no one else down here I trust. It’s final."

"Good for you Pope," she snaps, arms crossed. "But I’m not one of your men and I’m not working with him. You can find someone else to squeeze their ass into that drain pipe."

Santi looks at Will for help and the man shrugs as he tries to convince her. "Cat, I know he didn’t make a good first impression but he’s a solid guy. I wouldn’t be down here if it wasn’t for him. We all trust him with our lives."

Her expression is still mulish, arms crossed.

"We’ve all worked together for years," Frankie tries in a more cajoling tone. "We went through the service together." Santi notes the unspoken implication - that _she_ is the odd one out. Which was true. They all had better reasons to want Redfly back on the team than they had to keep her on the team. But she was also right that none of them would be able to squeeze down that drainpipe and disable the security system. If it came down to a vote she would be out - but it wouldn’t come to that because they couldn’t do it without her.

"What about you," she asks Ben. "You going to try and talk me into this?"

It occurs to Santi that he probably should have started with Ben - since he was the person Wildcat had known the longest. Her contact and the reason she was on the team at all. He sees Ben sigh and lean his elbows on the table, looking Wildcat in the eye. "He’s like a brother Cat. If you trust me you trust him."

"Fine," she huffs after a minute. "But I don’t want him near me."

"Done," Santi says, slapping a hand on the table. He raises an eyebrow at Will and Will nods and pushes himself away, to go get Tom out of his hotel room and talk him into this op. The rest of them finish their drinks and then head upstairs to their rooms. Santi hesitates on the first floor landing, hoping Wildcat might invite him back to her room but she just says her goodbyes and continues up to the next level.

In his room, Santi settles at the small desk and goes through the plans. The recon from the day and the information from the day before. It was a tight plan. In and out in under an hour. They could count on at least one vehicle being left behind, Lorea would never leave himself without transport. The drainage pipe was mapped straight up to the house, leading into a grate in the basement. Video of the house showed that the grate was about 18 inches and offset. A tiny gap but one Wildcat swore she could fit through. If she couldn’t get there or there was no way out, they were going to have to go to plan b which was a hell of a lot messier than plan a and one he didn’t really want to do.

He checks the arrangement for a third time, or maybe a fourth. The lawyer in Lima was already on retainer. Will would have a heavy lift ready for them at the runway. It was a lot of variables. A lot of things that would need to go right.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock at his door and he pushes himself away from the desk and stands, cracking his back with a low moan.

"It’s me," a voice says before he gets there and he opens the door without looking. It’s Wildcat, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. She raises an eyebrow and he steps into the room, motioning her inside.

"I don’t like it," is the first thing she says and Santi sighs.

"If you’ve come her to-"

But she cuts him off. "No. I made my decision and I’ll stick to it. But I don’t like it. And I was in my room not liking it and that was about to become my whole night." She sits on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little before looking up at him. "So I came here hoping you might distract me."

"Oh really?" He asks, standing over her. "Is that all I am to you? A distraction?"

She tilts her head and looks at him for a moment. _Shit_. He’d meant for that to sound more playful but she looks like she’s taking him seriously. He opens his mouth to say something. Something flirtatious so he can move on to getting her naked but she gets her words out first.

"We’re not on the same side Santi, I don’t think we can ever be more than distractions for each other."

He groans, leaning back against the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. Not the conversation he wanted to have but it was probably inevitable. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you doing this?" When he gives her a questioning look she explains, "Why are you down here? Why this mission and not some other?"

"Because Lorea needs to be taken out."

"Right." She leans back on her hands, giving him a small sad smile. "Do you know why I’m here? Because you’re paying me to be. And I’ve been promised a chunk of a significant amount of money. You’re a good man Santiago _Pope_ Garcia. And I am …not."

He smiles at the emphasis she puts on his handle and sits on the bed next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands between his legs. "I don’t believe that."

"Ask me."

The words fall between the two of them like bricks and Santi sighs. "I don’t want to know."

"Yeah you do," she turns to him, pulling one leg onto the bed. "You’ve been dying to know since you first asked. So… ask me again. And I’ll tell you."

"Let me rephrase," he says, taking one of her hands. "I don’t _need_ to know what happened. You’re who you are. And I kind of like who you are." He turns her palm over, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the center.

"You are a good man," she says and he smiles into her hand.

"Not sure that’s what a man wants to hear when he’s got a beautiful woman on his bed."

"Oh?" She shifts to the floor, kneeling between his spread legs, her hands on his thighs. "What if she’s here?"

"Mmm, maybe," he hums, enjoying the feeling of her fingers stroking along his legs.

"What if she’s…?" She leans forward, biting at his shirt and pulling it from his jeans, then nuzzling her nose beneath and against his skin.

"Better," he breathes and when she reaches up to push on his chest he falls back to the bed without hesitation, threading his hands into her hair as she unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and underwear to his knees.

"You are a good man with a beautiful cock."

Santi can feel his body shaking, he’s laughing, and then she takes his beautiful cock into her mouth and his laugh turns into a groan. She hums around him, a little pleased noise that shoots straight into his heart and lodges there and it occurs to him that this woman is dangerous - in more ways than one.

But then she’s sucking on him, moving her mouth along his cock, releasing him to kiss his balls, and any conscious thoughts he has turns into mush and an overarching need to be inside of her. He pulls gently at her hair but doesn’t force her, just shows her what he wants - what his body is clamoring for. She follows, running her tongue up the underside of his cock and he moans. He feels her fingers wrap around him, her warm mouth closing over him again. Her other hand moves to grip his hip just as he thrusts up into her, unable to help the small movement. But she holds him down, working him with one hand and her mouth.

"Come here," he whispers after a minute, reaching down to cup her cheek and scooting backwards on the bed, out of her reach. She releases him from her mouth, looking up at him with a quizzical expression. He smiles back. "Come here hot stuff," he says again, holding one of his hands out.

She takes it, sliding her body next to his on the comforter and he turns towards her, tilting her face up to his with one hand and kissing her. She tastes different, a little bit like him, and he feels himself get even harder if that was at all possible. Her hands are on his shirt and he shrugs out of it, kicking his shoes off and pushing the rest of his clothes to the floor. She’s already got her shirt off, kneeling on the bed next to him and he sits up, pulling her into his arms and taking her breast into his mouth - as much as he can - tongue flicking across the nipple. She wraps her arms around his head, back arching and panting his name.

They take the rest of her clothes off together and then he guides her to face away from him, kneeling on the bed with his thighs between hers and settling her back against his chest. She lets her head hang back on his shoulder, exposing her neck and her body to him. He presses hot kisses to her shoulder, sucking on the fading bruise on her neck, making it stand out once again. He rests his hand to her stomach before sliding down, the other cupping her breast and gently rolling her nipple between his fingers. She squirming against him, her hands gripping his arms, her body rolling against his cock and he can’t help but rock himself into the cleft of her ass.

His fingers slip into her easily, fuck she was wet and ready for him, and they both groan. He runs one finger across her clit before sliding down to slip just a bit inside of her. Then back, gliding across her clit before sliding down to press inside her. And again. And again. Her high pitched gasps fill the room and he hides a smile against her neck. He nuzzles her cheek, willing her to turn to him and when she does he kisses her, thrusting a tongue inside her at the same moment as he does the same with two fingers between her legs.

It’s a miracle he holds on to her. She jerks in his embrace, back arching and her nails digging into his wrists. He shifts behind her, spreading her knees slightly wider and then pulling his hand free of her so he can reach down and settle his cock against her entrance, adjust her position just slightly so he can slide inside of her. Fuck she feels good. Tight and hot and so unbearably wet he can’t think straight. The angle is wrong to thrust deep, but her muscles squeeze around the head of him and he takes her in short, sharp snaps of his hips. Each one drawing a small cry from her. He can feel her fingers moving over her clit and he grips her hip in one hand to hold her steady, pinches her nipples with the other. She’s gasping, tongue licking at his lips and when she comes he captures the noise. Licks it from inside her mouth.

He can feel his own orgasm coming fast, how slick and wet and hot she feels against his… _fuck_. He has the presence of mind to pull away from her, to pull out, and then he comes against her. Her clit, her thighs, the bed.

He wraps his arms tightly around hers, burying his face in between her neck and shoulder. Holding her as she drifts back to him and his own body stops shaking. When his brain is working again he shuts his eyes and curses quietly to himself.

"Fuck I’m sorry."

She freezes, he can feel her lips move through his hair as she turns to him. "For what?"

"I forgot the condom."

He can hear the intake of air she makes, the stiffness of her body. Then she sighs. "Are you-?"

"Yes," he answers quickly. "Test was recent."

She nods. "Me too. And there’s no… there’s no other concerns."

He huffs a breath of relief. He’d never done that. Never gotten so caught up in someone he forgot to be safe about it. Hell, he’d only ever been skin to skin with one other woman in his life. And he’d thought he was going to marry her.

Wildcat shivers and Santi wraps his arms tighter, gently maneuvering them down to one side of the bed and reaching over her to grab the edge of the blankets. He cocoons them together, even though the blanket isn’t quite wide enough and his ass is hanging out in the cold air. But she seems warm and cozy, shimmying herself around until she’s facing him, palms to his chest.

"We should get up. You made a mess," she mumbles and he kisses her forehead.

"In a minute," he whispers back, snuggling her closer.

A minute turns into ten. He notes idly, as he starts to nod off, that even if she wanted to leave before he woke up, there was no way she was going to manage that with how tightly he has her rolled up with him. The thought makes him smile and he feels her hands stroking him gently, probably unconsciously given her even breathing.

In a minute ends up being the entire night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11: The Op and the Aftermath.  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Word count: 2400. 
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) violence. language. PiV sex.

- _Pope Pope, Wildcat. Security system is down._ -

Santi lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. - _Copy that Wildcat._ -

"Huh, she came through," Tom says next to him.

"Told you," Santi whispers back.

- _Pope, I’ve got four in the house. One mobile. Two downstairs, west side. I can hear someone upstairs.-_

 _-Pope, Benny. We got one on the gate as well._ -

- _Copy that.-_

Santi turns to Tom. "You ready?"

"As ever," Tom grunts back.

- _Allcom we are go._ -

The mission goes about as well as he could have expected. Three guards taken out silently and non-lethally. One kill with a knife from Wildcat into his kidney when he took Frankie by surprise. Not perfect but not the worst either.

But the house, the house was empty.

"Where is the _fucking money_ Pope?" Ben snaps and Santi pushes his rifle under his arm, tilting his goggles on to his head.

"It was, fuck, it was here."

"No money, no Lorea," Tom snaps.

Santi sees Wildcat shift in the corner of his eye. Sees a glint of metal but Frankie has her by the wrist, is whispering something to her and it disappears. She leans against the wall instead and he hears a solid thunk when her boot comes up to rest on the drywall.

That… that should not be making that noise. He looks at her then notices the smell. Fresh paint. He points it out and within minutes they six of them have torn the thin drywall down, exposing stacks and stacks of cash.

"Holy shit," Will mutters and Santi claps him across the back.

"We’re going to need bags," Ben says on the other side of Will.

Santi grins, turning the other way. He sees Wildcat caressing a stack of hundreds, a dreamy look on her face. It was enough to make a man jealous. And when she leans forward and rubs her cheek against the money for just a second he can’t help but roll his eyes.

"You done?" He asks and sees her jerk towards him, like he had interrupted her from a dream.

"Huh?" She blinks and then smiles, "Oh, yeah. I’m good."

They bag the money swiftly. Tens of millions of dollars moving duffel by duffel down the stairs. It doesn’t take long for Santi to realize that there’s more money in the house than they could ever possibly move out. And that Tom doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps pulling piles and piles down.

It’s Frankie who finally shouts some sense into him. Frankie whose gruff voice and ultimatum seems to snap Tom out of it and they pack up their last bags.

"I want one last sweep for Lorea," Santi tells them. The fucker had to be here somewhere. He never left the house. "And then we can burn it all down."

His team nods - Frankie, Ben, and Will heading down with the last load of cash. Santi moves down the hall, Tom tailing him with the lighter fluid. He scans the bedroom, eyes under the bed. Nothing.

"Hey Pope, come look at this." He hears Wildcat’s voice from the hall and goes over to where she’s standing next to a built-in cabinet. "What’s on the other side of this wall?"

"The stairs?"

She shakes her head and puts a hand up to the left of the cabinet. "No, they end right here. Then there’s this," she taps the drawers, "and then there’s another, what, eight feet to the door?" She paces the hallways and he follows. "And in here, I’d say ten feet to the exterior wall. That’s at least eighty square feet unaccounted for."

Santi rakes his eyes over the hallway, then the bedroom.

"What the fuck is she on about Pope?" Tom asks from by the bed.

"Don’t fucking talk to me," she snaps and then looks at him. "I’m right."

Santi looks at the wall then at her, "What do you think more money?"

"Nah, it looks like-" but she doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

Will comes jogging into the room saying, "We’ve gotta move," and then everything seems to happen in slo-motion. They all see the wardrobe move at the same time and Santi grabs Wildcat by the arm, yanking her behind him as he takes aim inside the gap. He sees several muzzle flashes and he fires, hears Will and Tom doing the same. Whoever is in the room goes down and Santi crosses to the door quickly.

One to the head. Two to the chest. An execution.

Lorea was dead.

"You good?" Wildcat’s voice behind him.

"Yeah it just grazed me." Will’s voice, but it sounded strained.

Santi spins around, looking over at Will. Wildcat is kneeling next to the man, looking at the line of red on his side. "That could have been a lot worse. You got lucky," she tells him

"Doesn’t feel lucky," Will grunts as she slaps a bandage over the wound.

"You okay?" Santi asks.

"Just peachy," Will replies, taking Wildcat’s hand and letting her pull him to his feet, Tom comes over quickly, giving Will a shoulder to lean on.

Wildcat crosses the floor and pokes her head into the safe room. "He dead?"

"Yeah," Santi answers.

She steps inside, carefully avoiding the body and looking at the video feeds. "We’ve got company."

- _Guys, the family is back. I got the first van at the gate_.-

"Fuck," Santi hisses.

If he were going to use short words and get to the point fast Santi would say their extraction from the house was an utter shitshow. If he was going to use long, complicated words he’d say it was a _fucking_ utter shitshow.

They’d moved through the house like ghosts, single shots taking out the guards as they returned. Bullets into the heads of the ones they had previously captured. It was more kind than letting them burn alive, he told himself. He heard his team calling their kills, heard two from Wildcat although he never heard her fire any shots. In retrospect, he wasn’t even sure she had a gun.

She was sprawled out behind him now, laying on top of a pile of duffel bags full of cash as they drove the van and SUV out to the airstrip. At one point he’s pretty sure he hears her snoring. He snorts to himself, ignoring the look from Tom and continues driving.

At the airfield they unload quickly, piling up bags by the freight scale. Santi checks in with Will who reassures him that their transport will be coming soon. Then he stops, takes a breath, and just leans against the SUV for a minute. To the side, he can see Frankie scribbling some math out, arguing with Tom. Will and Ben are propped up against some duffel bags, looking ready to take a nap themselves.

"Hey you."

And there was Wildcat, at his shoulder. He smiles and turns just his head to her. "Hey yourself."

"We did it."

He shakes his head, rolling his body off his shoulder so he can turn to face her. "Not yet. Don’t jinx us. Still gotta get up in the bird."

"True," she says with a shrug. Her fingers are tapping against her leg and he reaches out and grabs her hand.

"Can we-"

"Wanna fuck?"

He freezes at her question, his own instantly forgotten. "What?"

She steps towards him and he can see her chest is rising and falling fast, the movements clear even if hampered by the flak jacket. "Shit like that gets me keyed up. Wanna go and fool around? While we wait?"

"I-" he pauses, cocks his head at her. "You know what? Yeah. I do."

She smiles and grabs his hand, apparently having already scoped out a place inside what’s left of the rusted out hangar. There’s an old barrel and he quickly has her bent over it, her pants dropped to her knees. Thank fuck he has a condom in his jeans and within a minute of her asking him to he’s balls deep inside of her and feeling her muscles clench along his cock.

"Yes," she moans and he thrusts into her, holding her waist with both hands. He can see her fingers clutching the edge of the barrel, her knuckles white. She’s so fucking wet for him he can hear it, the filthy sound of his cock moving inside of her.

"Fuck this is-" he starts but he can already feel a tingle up his spine and he grits his teeth. He stops moving, curling his fingers into the flesh of her. Her muscles tighten and he groans, hanging his head for a moment and fighting for control.

"What are you doing?" She looks back over shoulder at him and he can’t help but note how pretty she is. And how much she obviously wants him.

"I want to _wreck you_ ," he grits his teeth and then swears, " _fuck_ , I can’t…"

She smiles and he feels her cover one of his hands with hers. "I won’t break Santi, _fuck me_."

He braces his feet apart, bends his knees, and then he’s fucking her hard and fast - knowing that she’s going to have bruises from it but not caring. She’s got her other hand out of sight and fucking hell he hopes she’s taking care of her own orgasm because he can’t fucking see straight.

The barrel creaks beneath them, the rhythmic slap of their flesh the only sound he can hear. She’s saying his name and he leans over her, pressing his open mouth to her shoulder to stop himself from making noise. To stop himself from attracting the attention of the boys not even fifty yards away.

He nearly bites off part of his tongue when he comes, trying to hold back the shout. He can hear her soon after, feel her muscles squeezing, see her bite into the flesh of her forearm to muffle herself. They sag against each other, breaths coming in pants, and then Santi hears it. The low hum of an airplane.

"What the fuck?"

She pushes him away, smiling slightly and blinking at him as she tries to get her bearings. "Go check. I’ll be right there."

His legs are weak but he manages to put his clothes back to rights and makes it out in time to see the handoff of the cash. To hear the helo coming in from around the mountain.

That was the last piece. They had done it.

He shares a grin with Will and then they start to lay out the net. Hook up the cables they’ll need. He briefly gets dragged in to Frankie and Tom’s argument but Frankie gives in and agrees that they’ll make it out.

"What’s she doing?" Tom asks as Frankie walks away.

Santi turns and sees Wildcat standing by one of the SUVs. He hadn’t seen her since the load began. She had a small stack of duffels next to her.

He walks over, looking at the bags then at her. "What are you doing?"

She smiles at him and he doesn’t like it. It’s small and sad. "I’m not coming with you Pope."

"What do you mean?"

She says the words slower this time. "I’m not coming with you."

"Why not?" He asks incredulously. Of all the things that might have gone wrong this one wasn’t on his list. Fuck, he could still taste her. Could see the mark on her arm where she had bitten herself.

"Because your out isn’t mine."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He’s shouting. Whether it’s to be heard over the sound of the helo or because he’s angry he’s not even sure.

"It means that whatever you’ve got set up on the other side of the mountains, it’s not my life. And it won’t work for me. I’m out. And it’s better if I do it here rather than there." She avoids his eyes as she says it, staring past him to the mountains.

"This is bullshit, get on the fucking bird." He doesn’t mean for it to sound as dickish as it does, and he can tell it’s the wrong tactic when she turns her eyes back to him and they’re as cold as ice.

"You guys get out your way I’ll get out mine." She gestures down at her feet, at the stack of duffels. "Look, by my count we got sixty bags, give or take. I figure three of those are going to costs and to pay for the trusts you’ve set up, right?"

Santi sighs, "You’re a little high but about that, yeah."

"So fifty-seven bags split six ways is about nine bags each. I’ll take seven and we’ll call it square."

He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like any of it. But they needed to get moving and short of kidnapping her there was no way she was getting into that helo with them. He briefly considers it anyway. But no, she was a grown woman and could make her own choices. Even if they were stupid. "So is this it then? Hasta siempre?"

She smiles at him, "How about hasta la proxima vez?

 _Until next time._ He sighs, shoulder slumping. Then he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Will you…" fuck he hated how he sounded but the words were already out, "will you look me up? After? If- when you make it out?"

"Trying to keep tabs on me Santi?" She says it with a smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

"Just, find me. Let me know you made it out."

Her smile is warmer this time. "Okay. I will."

He looks down at the bags, then back at her. "What are you going to do?"

She shrugs. "I’ve got an SUV and enough fuel to get out of the jungle. I’ll figure it out from there."

"They’ll be looking for us." He warns.

"I know."

"Anyone who recognizes that SUV will kill you on sight."

"I know."

"I don’t want you to do this," he finally says.

"I know," she smiles at him and leans forward and kisses his cheek. "Get out of here Pope." Then she turns away, popping the back of the SUV and hauling her bags into it. Santi watches her for a minute then turns his back on her, jogging back to the helo and his waiting team. He jumps on board and closes the door, pulling on a headset and giving Frankie the all-clear.

"Where’s Wildcat?" Ben asks.

"She’s not coming," he answers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12: Happily ever after  
> (Santiago Garcia x Reader)
> 
> Word count: 2300.
> 
> Rating: M (Explicit) language. this is basically fluff. I wanted them to get the ending they deserved. But fuck Tom still. mentions of Tom death.

It’s a brisk February day when he sees her again.

He’s outside, neck deep on an oil change on his truck. He hears the car pull up, the door slam, but assumes they’re visiting one of his neighbors until he hears the crunch of grass in his front yard and looks up and sees her standing there. He wasn’t expecting it. It had been months and he hadn’t expected to _ever_ see her again to be honest. He had told himself that she was resourceful, would have gotten out of the jungle no issue with just seven bags to worry about and on her own. As easy a getaway as their own should have been.

That was what had him worried though. Exactly how bad their own extraction had gone. If hers was even half that then she was likely dead. And even if she wasn’t dead, there was no reason to think she might try to find him again. Despite their final words, he didn’t hold much hope that she would. They’d had fun in bed, definitely enjoyed each other - but he knew as well as anyone that connections forged in the field often didn’t withstand being back home.

So either dead or disappeared. As the months had drug on he’d hoped it was the latter. That she was sitting on a beach somewhere drinking a mai tai and maybe occasionally sparing a thought for them. For him.

But she wasn’t. She was here. In his driveway. Wearing jeans and a black leather jacket and looking just as beautiful as he remembered.

"Hey stranger," she calls out and he realizes he’s just been staring. He drops the socket wrench and steps around to the back of his truck, taking in the full sight of her.

"Hey stranger," he echoes, "Glad to see you made it."

She shrugs, smiling. "Barely."

He nods, turning to sit slightly on the back bumper of his truck. Giving her a look out of the corner of his eye hetakes a deep breath and lets it out in a _whoosh_. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"I heard about Redfly. I’m sorry." He can hear the sympathy in her voice but doesn’t say anything.

After a moment she walks to him, leaning back against the bumper as well. Their shoulders almost touching. She looks out at the trees of his property, hands tucked into her jacket. They sit there in silence for a few minutes before she asks, "Not gonna lie, I would have figured you to buy something fancier. At least a new truck."

Santi snorts, pressing two fingers to his temples before dropping his hand back to the edge of the truck. "I’ve owned this place a while. And the truck _is_ new. To me at least."

He can see her head turn, almost feel the calculation she makes when she asks. "What happened?"

So he explains. The helicopters struggle to get over the Andes. The crash. The long hike through the jungles to the ocean. As he goes on she moves closer to him, so her body is pressed against his side.

When he finishes he hears her curse. "Damn. That… that sucks."

"Yeah," he snorts. "That’s one way of putting it."

"How much did you end up getting out with? After all that?"

Santi sighs, leaning his head back against the truck and shutting his eyes. "About five."

"Each?" she asks incredulously.

"Total," Santi admits.

"Fuck man," she says it on an out breath. "What’s that work out to in the end, forty? Fifty grand a year for thirty years? With the interest? After all of that?"

Santi smiles, "Actually, we put it all in a trust for Tom’s kid."

She’s quiet and then he feels her hand cover his where it rests on the bumper. "That was nice of you."

He doesn’t say anything, just feels her next to him. Finally he asks, "How much did you get out with?"

He hears her laugh, her hand squeezing his. "Once I was done bribing my way out of South America? Twenty-five. Give or take."

"Jesus Christ," he breathes and then has to laugh. At least someone had made it away from that utter fuck up of an op with something to show for it. "We should have left with you," he comments and feels her lace her fingers into his.

"Nah, we’d never have made it out all together." He turns to look at her and she shrugs, "I’m not saying overloading the helicopter was a _good_ idea, but all of us in the trucks would never have made it either."

He nods and just takes a moment to look at her. At the arch of her eyebrows and those too bright eyes. "Twenty-five huh?" He asks after a minute.

"Mmmhmm," she says. Then he sees her lips twitch. "I did take some of the bigger bags, to be fair. Since I was taking less than my full share."

He snorts, pulling her hand closer to him and then wrapping an arm over her shoulder. Something about it felt natural. "What are you going to do with all that cash?"

She makes a small noise, snuggling into his side. "Not sure yet. I’ve also got about fifty thousand in diamonds to figure out what to do with."

He jerks away from her so suddenly she has to catch herself on the bumper and his eyebrows are practically in his hairline. He sees her wide grin and shakes his head, pointing at her. "Motherfucker, is that where those went? We figured they were in one of the bags we lost."

Her nose wrinkles when she smiles at him. "Nah, I pocketed them back at the hotel."

"You’re a sneaky bitch," he scolds.

"Yup." She agrees with him without even an ounce of shame. No hesitation. "But a rich one."

He shakes his head, "I can’t believe you took the diamonds."

"I like pretty shiny things," she defends herself. "Don’t hate."

She looks so cute in that moment he can’t help but reach out, cup her cheek in his hand. Then he leans in and kisses her.

It _is_ different stateside. It feels more real. More grounded. But she responds to him in exactly the same way. Sinking into the kiss with a small moan, her arms wrapping around his neck. They kiss for a long time, until he can feel her nose turning icy and she shivers in his arms.

"Wanna come inside?"

"Santiago Garcia, what kind of a girl do you think I am?" she asks with mock incredulity.

"Oh I know exactly what kind of girl you are," he whispers into her ear, pinching her ass and feeling her jump in his arms. She laughs and takes his hand when he offers it.

"Have you considered donating to a good cause?" he asks casually as they cross his lawn.

She grins, squeezing his hand. "Like what, the 'Improvements to Santiago Garcia’s house' fund’? I hear it’s in dire need of some seed capital."

"Don’t make fun of my house," he scolds in mock seriousness holding the screen door open for her and beckoning for her to open the main door. The inside is toasty and warm thanks to the fire he built and he takes her jacket from her, feeling how soft her sweater is. He hangs their jackets up in his closet and calls out, "I was actually thinking the 'Take Santiago Garcia out and treat him to a nice dinner in the style to which he has become accustomed' fund."

He can hear her giggle and turns around to see her perched on the arm of his couch. She looks good there, in his house. "Oh? And what style is that?" she asks with a small smirk.

"Anything actually cooked and not from a can would be a start," he replies, walking over to her and she laughs and he swears he can feel the sound all the way down to his toes.

She wraps her arms around his neck when he gets close, letting him tip her back so she’s lying on his couch and he follows her down, settling between her thighs, leaning down to nuzzle her soft skin. He can hear the laugh in her voice when she says, "Mmm, actually I was thinking I might donate to the 'Idiots who don’t understand basic physics' fund. I hear it’s a little short."

He pauses from nibbling her neck and pulls back to meet her eyes. "Really?"

She smiles at him. "Yeah, pretty sure I can set y’all up with a few mill each without missing it too much."

She tries to pull him back down but he resists, catching one of her hands and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "Sweetheart, that’d be half your money."

He almost doesn’t catch the shifty look on her face. The way her eyes dart away from him for a moment. But he definitely doesn’t miss the tone of her voice when she says, "Well, not quite."

He comes up to his knees, looking down at her with his sternest expression. "What do you mean?"

"God you look hot like that," she says, stretching her hands out to him.

He swats them away, narrowing his eyes. "Wildcat…"

"Look, it’s not my fault," she sits up, scooching away from him a bit, "you didn’t take a good look around the safe room."

Santi groans, running a hand over his hair, "What did you take? More diamonds?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip."Just a couple of notebooks," she says quietly. Then even quieter, "With bank information."

His eyes narrow, "Lorea didn’t believe in banks."

She shrugs, looking away from him. "To be fair I don’t think it was _his_ money in them."

"How much?" he sighs, watching her face.

"How much what?" she replies, reaching up to unbutton his shirt.

He catches her hand, "How much did you make out with. All the fuck together?"

She makes a show of doing math. Tapping her fingers and mouthing numbers until she comes back with an answer that floors him. "Oh, I dunno, about four hundred maybe? Plus the diamonds."

"Plus the diamonds," he echoes hollowly.

"I like the diamonds, I want to be sure they’re counted," she says with a petulant look.

"You’re telling me you got away from that job with nearly twice what we originally stole?" He asks incredulously.

"I mean," her hands are back on his buttons and he lets her this time. "More like… one point five times the original haul."

"Holy fucking shit."

She grins at him, using the gaping edges of his shirt to pull him down to her. "So you see, I can give a few million to you guys without missing it too much."

"We could split that five ways and you’d not miss it too much," he corrects into her mouth, kissing her back when she runs her tongue along his lips.

"Yeah, but why would I do that?"

"Are you open to bribery," he asks, running a hand under her sweater.

"I maybe could be, _mmph,_ convinced," she gasps out when he tweaks her nipple.

He grins, settling himself back into her arms, "Well let me see if I can convince you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~fin~
> 
> (There will be an epilogue for poor Frankie though.)


	13. Frankie's Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 Frankie’s Epilogue: Frankie finds a nice girl. “Nice.”  
> (Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC)
> 
> Word count: 4500. 
> 
> Rating: NC-17 (Explicit) oral (f receiving). language. PiV sex.
> 
> A/N: This chapter can easily be read as a standalone Frankie Morales x OFC/Reader (no names used).

The bar was busier than he expected for a Thursday night. Soft music was playing over the speakers when he walked in and he tugged at the bottom of his button down as he scanned the room. He spotted the pair almost immediately, Santi and Wildcat sitting at a high table across from the bar, heads together in conversation.

Frankie grunted, not really in the mood to watch those two snuggle for the night and wondering if anyone else would be joining them. He went to the bar, propping a foot up and ordering himself a beer. He could see them in the mirror in front of him, Wildcat’s eyes on his back before she whispered something to Santi. Lord he hoped they weren’t going to propose a threesome. He wasn’t necessarily against the idea generally speaking - but he wasn’t really interested in whatever shenanigans that particular couple wanted to get up to either. When the bartender brought his beer he dropped her a twenty, told her to keep the change and smiled at her effusive thanks.

He had money now. Didn’t know where it came from. Santi had mumbled something to him about going back for the cash they left in Peru and the next thing he knew he was getting a six figure salary and a Christmas and Independence Day bonus big enough to buy a new Tesla.

But having money didn’t mean he knew what to _do_ with it. He was still driving the same beat up truck, still living in the same crappy apartment. He thought about going in on a helicopter lease - it was amazing how quickly cash had cleared up his license review - but that was really about as rich as his plans got.

Wildcat grinned when he got close to their table and Frankie couldn’t help but grin back. She might be a hundred pounds of crazy in a ten pound sack - but she was fun and Santi was head over heels for her. She’d also saved their asses back on that op on multiple occasions. More than good enough reason to like her.

"Frankie you made it!" She called out with enough effusiveness to make him look behind himself for another Frankie. He met Santi’s eyes and the man just shrugged. Wildcat elbowed her boyfriend and then held her hands out to Frankie. "Come sit, I’ve missed you."

Frankie raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, sitting on the stool next to hers and across from Santi. "Y’all live three miles from me. You could come visit whenever."

"Sorry," she scrunched her nose at him, "with all the travel…"

Wildcat seemed to be having no issues spending her share of the money. Or Santi’s share. Frankie still wasn’t sure how that worked out but between them they had to be loaded. They were constantly off somewhere. He was pretty sure it was Europe last time, somewhere in the Aegean for a few weeks.

"Tell me what’s been going on hermano," Santi prompted. "How you been keeping busy?"

Frankie filled them on what had happened in his life since the last time he’d seen them. The only major thing was the reinstatement of his license which was met with cheers and Santi’s offer to buy the next round. As if any of them couldn’t have bought the place outright if they wanted. It was still surreal.

Frankie let his eyes wander while Santi ordered from the waitress, his gaze catching on a woman who had just walked in. Knee high boots hugged her calves and there were a good several inches from there to a flared blue skirt. He couldn’t see her front but the stretch of skin on the back of her thighs held him captive.

"You should go talk to her," Wildcat prompted and Frankie turned wide eyes on her. She was following his eyes and looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"What? No." Frankie shook his head, turning his attention back to the table. "I never have luck with that shit. Santi’s the one who can just walk up to girls and have their panties off in five flat."

"Oh really," Wildcat turned to her right where Santi was wearing a shit-eating grin. "Is that so?"

"Worked on you," he said and slipped a hand onto her thigh where he thought Frankie couldn’t see.

"Mmhmm," Wildcat muttered, turning her body slightly so Santi’s hand fell between them and the man turned to glare at Frankie.

"Narc," he grumbled and Frankie just took a sip of his beer to hide his own grin.

"She’s looking over here," Wildcat pointed out and Frankie turned before he could help it, saw the swell of her breasts under the top of the dress, the glint of silver at her neck and then she was crossing the room and heading straight for them and his brain short-circuited.

Wildcat was talking but whatever the words were they crackled like static in his ears. Then the woman was turning to him, those beautiful eyes focused on _him_. He knew he must look dumb, but he couldn’t stop _looking_ at her.

"Frankie?"

She had laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Not deep, not like his own, but they would be one day. Marks to show how often she smiled, how much joy she found in the world.

"Frankie?"

Her lips parted slightly, her tongue stroking her bottom lip and Frankie bit back a groan, his imagination running wild at the small gesture.

" _Frankie._ "

He jerked his gaze from the woman to look at Wildcat. "What?"

Wildcat was trying to hide a grin and he saw Santi’s shoulders shaking as he turned his head into his girlfriend’s neck and whispered something to her. Frankie couldn’t hear it but caught Wildcat’s reply "Told you."

Frankie glared at the two of them before looking back at the woman. She was smiling at him, her nose crinkled. "It’s nice to meet you Frankie."

"Nice to meet you too… uh…" Fuck, he’d missed her name. But she didn’t seem to notice, just slid onto the empty stool to his left and set her bottle on the tabletop.

"Not your usual scene," she said to Wildcat and Frankie narrowed his eyes.

"You two know each other?" He asked.

Wildcat nodded, "Same line of work."

Frankie felt his eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline. "You mean you’re a-"

"Liberator of excess wealth? Yes." The woman finished for him with a wink. "Not as flexible as Cat here, but I have my ways."

Frankie blinked as he thought about her being all kinds of flexible and he swallowed. But he must have done something wrong because the next thing he knew he was coughing and leaning away from Wildcat and the woman’s hands were on his back and her eyes were looking into his and fuck what was the order for breathing. In and out? The simple motion seemed beyond him.

He waved off everyone’s concern and pushed away from the table, heading for the bathroom. He wasn’t there thirty seconds before Santi pushed through the door, spotting him immediately and crossing to lean on the sink next to him.

"Pull your shit together man."

Frankie groaned. Splashing water on his face and then eyeing the even messier picture he presented than usual now that his hair was wet. "Fuck," he bit out, grabbing for a paper towel. "Is this a setup?"

Santi shrugged. "Kitten’s idea. She said her friend just moved to town. Doesn’t know anybody."

"Kitten?" Frankie gave Santi a disgusted look. "You really call her kitten? That… force of nature?"

He couldn’t have described the expression that crossed Santi’s face, but the far away look in his eyes was familiar as the man rumbled, "You’ve obviously never heard her purr."

"Oh for fuck’s sake," Frankie pushed past him and out of the bathroom, halting when he saw Wildcat and the woman leaning across the table in deep conversation.

Santi clapped him on the shoulder. "It’ll be fine, just be yourself."

Just be yourself. Easy when you were Santiago fucking Pope Garcia. Harder when you were Frankie goddammit Catfish Morales - forty years and a drug bust under your belt and the only thing to show from life a streak of moderate luck that had landed him with one dead friend and some cash.

But fuck it, he was going to try. At minimum, he could hold himself together long enough to make decent conversation. He could do that. He could.

"So what do you do?" She asked and he smiled at her. See? Perfectly normal behavior.

"I’m a pilot. Helicopters."

Her eyes brightened, "Oh really? I’ve never actually been up in a helicopter. Managed all kinds of other things, but never that."

"Really," he asked, his smile turning into a grin. "Well I’ll have to take you up sometime."

She seemed genuinely interested, asking him questions about how a helo worked and he scavenged sets of things from the surrounding tables to make a mockup of a cockpit.

"So this lever here, it’s the cyclic controls."

"The joystick?"

Frankie smiled, "Sure. It changes the angle of the blades, which controls movement on the x and z axis, left and right, forward and back. This one," he pointed at the toothpick he’d laid to the left of the cocktail glass 'seat', "is the collective. It’s mostly for up and down." She nodded and he pointed at the two olive pits in front of the glass. "And the pedals control the turn… the… spin. Which direction the helo is oriented."

She pointed at the three controls. "So this one, the cyclic, controls pitch and roll. The collective moves you up and down the y-axis, and the petals control yaw?"

Frankie froze, looking at her. "How do you know those terms?"

"I dated a pilot before, just the fixed-wing kind." She hid a grin in her glass. "He told me helicopter pilots were crazy, but I did learn a bit. Did I get it right?"

"Yeah, you’re basically right," Frankie pushed his hair back. "I’ve had to simplify it a bit because the controls do different things in a hover than when you’re moving - but that’s basically it."

She bit her lip when she grinned at him and Frankie was falling deep into her spell when he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, we’re getting out of here," Santi said. Wildcat smiled at him and then leaned forward to hug the woman. "Good luck," Santi whispered as he gave Frankie a hug.

"Wait," the woman spun on her stool. "I took a cab here because you said you’d give me a ride home."

"I can do that," Frankie offered immediately, then blushed when she turned back to him. "I mean, if you need a ride I can do that."

Wildcat winked at him and then Santi was dragging her out of the bar and Frankie would bet every dime of money he had that those two fucked in the parking lot.

"Okay," the woman turned her attention back to him. "Tell me more about the rotor on the tail. I’m confused."

Frankie did so gladly, even going so far as to raid the bar for swizzle sticks so he could show the aeronautics of the different rotor blade positions. She seemed happy to listen to him, asking good questions and leaning in close enough that he could look down and see the color of her bra in the gap of her dress.

Not that he was looking.

But the bar had to close eventually, and he’d run out of cash to slip to the waitress to let them stay longer. He thought about putting a hand on the woman’s back when they walked out but changed his mind at the last minute, although he did make a point of opening the truck door for her. She gave him her address when he got in and he pulled it up on his phone and set it up against the dashboard.

"Is it out of your way?" she asked.

"Not too far," he replied, wishing he had a newer truck to impress her with.

"Have you lived there long?"

"Couple of years," he grunted, eyeing the street before he pulled out into the lane. She was silent for a moment.

"Where did you live before that?"

"Here and there," he was trying to concentrate on the road and not how good she looked on the bench seat across from him. When he reached for the gear shift her thigh was only a few inches away. Close enough to rest his palm on bare skin if he wanted, if he thought it was welcome. But now she was texting on her phone, not paying attention to him.

"This it?" He asked, pulling up to a small walled garden. The gate was up a few stairs from the sidewalk but he couldn’t see the house past it.

"Yeah," she said, looking out the window. She paused for a minute, not getting out.

"Have a good night," Frankie muttered.

He thought he heard her sigh but she opened the door, closing it and giving a little wave before disappearing through the gate.

Frankie dropped his head to the steering wheel, hands clutching the leather wrap. He pulled his hat out from behind the seat and pulled it on, grateful for the familiarity. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, turning the ignition with his other hand. It was Wildcat.

_W: Frankie what are you doing???_

Frankie sat back in his seat, typing out his reply.

_F: Im dropping ur friend off._

_W: I know THAT. Why didn’t you make a move??_

_F: She’s not interested. Been texting someone whole drive._

_W: She was texting ME you moron. She thinks you’re hot but you ignored her??? WTH man._

Frankie’s jaw dropped and he glanced back at the gate.

_F: For real? Ur not shitting me?_

_W: 100% for real. Go get her tiger._

Frankie turned the ignition back, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair for a second before replacing it. Then he stepped out of the truck and threw the hat inside. Considering how the last night had gone with the damn thing he didn’t want any of its bad mojo around. His phone buzzed.

_W: Hey, remember that talk we had back in the jungle….?_

Frankie groaned and tucked the phone away. Did he remember? It was all he thought about anymore. Jerking off in his bed while he imagined a woman’s voice telling him exactly how hard or fast to stroke himself. Did Wildcat mean that…?

The gate wasn’t locked, the other side a large overgrown garden. He could hear the bubble of water and passed a small pond with koi in it. A black and white cat was stretched across a rock nearby and gave him a dubious look. He tipped his hat to it, or tried too anyway. He ended up pulling on a lock of hair instead before he arrived on a cozy front porch. Taking a deep breath he knocked.

She looked confused when she opened the door, one eyebrow raised, but then smiled when she saw him. Frankie felt a knot of anxiety loosen in his chest.

"I, uh, I realized I didn’t say a proper goodnight," he said.

She looked at him for a minute, biting her lip, before she backed away a step, swinging the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

He nodded, stepping past her. The house was cozy, plush furniture in deep jewel tones. Next to the door was a pile of shoes and he toed his boots off without prompting before he followed her into a large kitchen. Copper pots hung from the ceiling over the island and she crouched down for a second before coming back with a bottle of dark amber liquid.

"Scotch?"

He nodded and she passed him the bottle while she rummaged for glasses. He glanced at it and then did a double take. Fuck this shit was older than he was.

"Here," she said, handing a glass to him and taking the bottle back. She poured them each a finger’s worth before holding her glass out. "Sláinte?"

He repeated the word, clinking his glass to hers before taking a careful sip. It slid down his throat like butter and he moaned. "Fuck that’s good."

She smiled back and nodded her head to the living room, "Can I give you the tour?"

Frankie nodded and followed her. Nodding at appropriate times when she showed him the main room, the study, a guest bedroom and bathrooms, and then led him into her bedroom. The bed was enormous, one of those king sizes with a state name in front of it. The damn thing looked eight foot square.

"And of course," she was saying, her toes sliding on the carpet as she spun in place, "the master."

Frankie nodded, trying to look anywhere _but_ at that big bed. "It’s nice."

"It is," she replied, setting her drink on a low bookcase near the door. He remained frozen in place as she wandered through the room, turning on a small light near the bed and tossing a couple of decorative pillows onto a nearby chair.

"Frankie?"

"Yeah?" he replied immediately.

"Get on the bed."

 _Oh thank God_ , he thought, sinking to sit at the foot of the large mattress, scotch dangling from three fingers. She sauntered toward him, skirt swaying at her hips and gently took his drink from him, taking a sip before turning away to set it beside hers.

"I’ve been wondering what you look like under that shirt all night. Would you mind?"

Frankie’s fingers had the top three buttons undone and the shirt over his head before she even finished the sentence. He sat there, watching her watch him, her tongue coming out to stroke her bottom lip. Before he could think of what to say she reached down and lifted the edge of her skirt, pulling her dress off in one motion and leaving her in a matching set of black underwear. The damn things were see-through, some kind of sheer fabric with little birds? flowers? embroidered on them that covered up absolutely nothing. He could see the darker skin of her nipples, cupped on one side by what yes on further examination was definitely a bird. He could tell because she was much closer now. Close enough to reach out and card her fingers into his hair.

He moaned, didn’t bother to hide it, leaning in to the touch of her hands and raising his own to rest on her hips. Parting his thighs so she could stand between them and her breasts were _right there_. When she breathed her nipple brushed across his lips and he pulled it into his mouth, sheer fabric and all. Felt the roughness of the material against his tongue when he stroked her. She made a pleased little noise, raking her nails on his scalp and he shuddered. His hands moved down to cup her ass, grabbing handfuls of her and jerking her body towards him.

She laughed, a pleasant giggle that made him smile in response - until he set his teeth against her sensitive skin and her giggle turned into a soft gasp. So he did it again, and again, moving from one breast to the other. He lifted his hands to cup her, to weigh the perfect orbs in his palms and look up at her.

Oh please let Wildcat be right. "What do you want?"

"I want you to lay me out on this bed and use your tongue on me until I come," she was looking directly into his eyes when she said it and he felt the world shift on its axis. "I want you to lick me and fuck me with your fingers and the very _moment_ I come unravelled for you I want you to fuck me." Frankie could hear bells distantly, his own blood rushing in his ears nearly drowning it out. "Fuck me through it and keep fucking me until I come again. Is that okay with you?"

Was that _okay_? "Fuck yeah," he growled, guiding her down onto the bed next to him. "That sounds great."

She moved away from him, that perfect curved body stretching out back into the pillows. He followed, stalking her up the sheets and wedging his shoulder between her thighs. He realized his mistake immediately, pulling away to quickly pull the barely there panties from her and then pressing his face into the heat of her. Fucking _hell_ she was wet, and the moment he thrust his tongue through her he moaned. She tasted great as well. What the fuck had he done to deserve this?

Her fingers were in his hair again, tugging him into her and he went willingly, licking at the slickness that was coating her, nuzzling his face into her. She pulled him upwards and he followed, latching his mouth on to her clit and sucking.

"Mmph," she pushed him away, "too much, softer."

He nodded, looking up at her, the curves of her stomach and breasts. He kissed her clit more gently, flattening his tongue and giving it long slow licks.

"Oh yeah," she sighed, "that’s it Frankie."

He could come from the sound and taste of her alone. She was vocal, praising him, guiding him. Telling him _harder_ , _faster_ , or _just like that_. And when she gasped out "More," he knew just what she needed, sliding a hand under his chin and pressing two fingers deep inside of her. She arched off the bed and he reached up with his free hand and grabbed her breast, massaging it and then plucking at the nipple.

"Fuck Frankie, yes." Her hips were rocking into his mouth, her hands holding him steady and he tried again, sucking her clit lightly and thrusting his fingers into her.

She came undone. Fingers pulling at his hair, body twisting underneath him. He pushed her through it, licking and sucking on her clit, fingers inside her and on her. Until she gasped out "Frankie!" in a pleading tone and he remembered.

He pulled away fast, cursing as he kicked off his pants and underwear and hastily pulled a condom on. He was over her within seconds, slowly easing inside of her quivering cunt. Her hands were on him immediately, grasping his ass and pulling him down while she arched her hips up.

"Fuck me," she ordered and he followed willingly, thrusting inside her with hard snaps of his hips and he could see her eyes roll back, her neck arch. "Oh fuck yes," she moaned, her nails digging into his ass, "yes that. Oh fuck Frankie."

His cock seemed to be drawing her orgasm out longer and he groaned, shifting his knees to get a better angle where he could go faster and deeper. She cried out, the wordless noise telling him he had done something right. He fucked her until her body sank back into the mattress, until she reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead and smiled at him. He slowed down then, settling into a gentler rhythm, drawing out pleased little gasps from that gorgeous mouth.

"What do you need?" He growled into her ear.

She pushed his shoulders and he sat back on his knees, helping her when she sat up and straddled him. He quickly divested her of her bra, tossing it God only knew where across the room. Her hands were behind his neck, holding his forehead to hers while she rode him.

He was panting. The clench of her muscles, the sight of her in his lap - it was too much and not enough all at once. "Fuck you’re amazing," the words left his mouth before he could think about them but he was rewarded with a hard squeeze of her cunt that made him see stars.

"You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself Frankie."

Fucking hell, he’d buy this woman the world if she asked him to. In the meantime, what she had asked for was a second orgasm and he was eager to get started on that. He lifted her up, not losing the connection between his cock and her cunt, but settling her higher so he could suck one of her bare nipples into his mouth. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his head, resting her cheek on his hair.

He fucked her slowly, grinding his hips into hers. Stroking his hands up and down her back and gently playing with her body. He noticed how she shuddered when he ran his fingers down her neck so he followed the path with his tongue, delighted to hear the low moan that fell from her lips. She kissed him, gently, like a lover. Their first kiss, he vaguely noted. He could get lost in her - the taste of her, the slide of her body on his cock.

And then she had his hand in hers, guiding it downwards and showing him precisely where and how she wanted to be touched. It was a gift, one he took with great care. Listening intently to the changes of her breathing, the breathy moans as she praised him, cursed him, kissed him.

She arched away from him and he could see down between them, where his cock disappeared between her thighs. Her slick heat coating him. He groaned, burying his mouth in her shoulder and moving his fingers more roughly. His control was hanging on by a thread and he started praying to whatever saint granted sex requests that she would just…

His name was ripped from her when she came, her body convulsing in his arms and he let go. Pumping into her two, three more times before he felt his own release flood over him. He covered her mouth with his, sharing his breath with hers as they both rode out their peaks. His body felt sensitive to her slightest touch, his brain shuddering inside his head, hell even his fucking _toenails_ were shivering.

He laid them down gently as it passed, holding her body close as she did the same. He could feel the after-effects of their orgasms wracking them both and fuck if he wasn’t going send Wildcat a fucking fruit basket tomorrow.

"You okay?" He asked after a minute and then immediately kicked himself. There was no reason to think she’d been as blown apart by that as he was. This was probably a normal weeknight for her.

"I’m better than fucking okay Frankie," she said instead, curling in to his body. "That was…"

"Amazing," he finished for her and grinned when he felt her nod. He ran his hand down her back. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Only if you want to." She sounded a little hesitant, far from the woman who had ordered him to her fuck her not an hour ago.

"I want to," he reassured her, pulling her closer into his side and kissing her temple. "I really want to."

When he sent the fruit basket he’d have to be sure to get her name from Wildcat. When he eventually married this woman it was something he was going to need.


End file.
